


Stand Alone Complex New Tokyo: Red Dawn

by Starshot



Category: Ghost in the Shell (Anime & Manga), Naruto
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Cyberpunk, Discrimination, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kakashi has an existential crisis, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unsolicited Cowboy Bebop callbacks, background Asuma/Kurenai - Freeform, implied Shisui/Itachi, lots of people die, morality in shades of grey, no knowledge of GITS required to read, some of whom deserve it but many who probably don’t, this is going to be a very dark story, you’ve been warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-01-31 16:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starshot/pseuds/Starshot
Summary: In 2031 AD the city of New Tokyo Japan is a haven for all the worst criminal elements of society, and a focal point for growing tensions associated with Japan’s refugee crisis. In this volatile environment, Hatake Kakashi - Captain of New Tokyo’s elite counter-terrorism unit Section Nine – works to protect public security on behalf of the government.A war hero with a troubled past and questionable coping mechanisms, Kakashi leads his team in the hunt to track down a mysterious new terrorist group known only as “Akatsuki”. But the closer he gets, the more the lines between right and wrong seem to blur. Who are the group really? And what are their true intentions?The answers might just change Kakashi – and Japan – forever.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Comments: 53
Kudos: 110
Collections: Naruto Sci-fi Week 2019





	1. Neon Sky, Concrete Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I’m very excited to share this new story! I’ve been working on the concept and plot for about a year now, putting it off because writing something this massive and complicated scares the crap out of me. So for it to finally see the light of day is kind of momentous. 
> 
> I just wanted to clarify that this is going to be a fic about Naruto characters, based in the Ghost in the Shell (GITS) world. I don’t intend to bring any of the characters from GITS into it, so if you’re not familiar with GITS don’t worry! I’ll explain the world and concepts as the story develops, so you shouldn’t need any prior knowledge. If there is anything you don’t understand though, please just ask. 
> 
> Also please mind the tags. This story will include violence, mature themes, and lot of grey morality, as you’d expect from GITS. We’re also heading for an ambiguous (at best) ending, depending on your interpretation. Basically what I’m trying to say is; if dark and nihilistic isn’t your thing, this probably isn’t the story for you. 
> 
> If you’re still interested, then welcome to my niche corner of writing hell, thank you, and read on!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new recruit joins the team, and an incident in the field sees Kakashi reliving his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here for Obito, you'll have to wait until Chapter 4. Sorry! It'll be worth it I promise.

“What makes us human is not our mind but our heart, not our ability to think but our ability to love.”

– Henri JM Nouwen

* * *

**Japan: 2031 AD**

It is a time when, even if nets were to guide all consciousness that had been converted to photons and electrons toward coalescing, standalone individuals have not yet been converted into data to the extent that they can form unique components of a larger complex.

_“La_ _dies and gentlemen we will shortly be landing…"_

The aircraft banked sharply, wingtip tracing a graceful curve over Tokyo Bay. Absentmindedly, Tenzō glanced up from his entertainment screen, peering through the scuffed plexiglass window.

It was early spring, the kind of gin-clear day that threw the contours of Japan into beautiful sharp relief. Beneath him in the hazy distance stood Mt Fuji, pristine white snows and deep emerald forest transitioning gradually into an uneven patchwork of cropped fields. Beside the coast rose small towns and settlements, a slate grey contrast to the azure glassy sea. And snaking between them like the parasitic arteries of human corruption, harsh strips of tarmac and steel that joined and grew in number until finally, they merged as one in the graceless dirty sprawl that was New Tokyo.

Resurrected from the wreckage of its former namesake like some kind of twisted Lazarus, New Tokyo was never going to make the travel brochures in a revitalised Japan; possessing neither the thriving commercialism of its more gaudy neighbour Niihama, nor the quiet dignity and culture of the nation’s southern capital Fukuoka.

Still all too-visible nearly three decades on, were the scars of the Third World War - the blasted skeletal buildings of the city’s once-vibrant heart lying half-submerged in the waters of Tokyo bay, a coastal outline forever altered by high-yield nuclear blast. Ostensibly aimed at the naval base of Yokosuka, some hour or so south along the coast, when the bombs had fallen they’d taken a good measure of Tokyo and its surrounds with them too, reducing the city from twenty-three prosperous special wards to just seventeen; only habitable thanks to the breakthrough of the Japanese Miracle – radiation scrubbing nano-machines that had ushered in a second age of prosperity for Japan in a changed and dangerously unstable world.

Long-established nation powers fractured and fell; and in defiance of the odds - Japan rose.

But success brought with it new problems, and into the power vacuum left by the collapse of the world’s major players spawned a fourth, brutal, non-nuclear world war. Waged between power-starved developing nations desperate for a place in the new world order, and lumbering incumbents unable to relinquish control even in their final death-throes, it saw an exodus of refugees unlike any before it in history - the majority of whom fled to the promise of a better life, offered by a country in dire need of human capital to rebuild it from the rubble – Japan.

And the latest focus of that rebuilding effort by government direction: New Tokyo.

The last place Tenzō wanted to be.

But the job offer had been too good to refuse. For a beat cop like him, an appointment to the elite counter-terrorism unit of Section Nine was the realisation of a life-long dream - something he’d barely dared hope would ever happen. The fact that it had come in New Tokyo of all places, rather than his beloved Fukuoka, or even Niihama, was unfortunate, but couldn’t be helped. A promotion was a promotion, and you didn’t refuse the government.

But with a crime rate three times higher than the rest of the country combined, a burgeoning refugee district in Shinjuku, and a reputation as a haven for arms dealers, human-traffickers, organ scalpers, cybercriminals, and all the other worst elements of society - he couldn’t help but feel he was going to have his work cut out for him.

Crowds milled about at the exit to the run-down airport terminal, and Tenzō hesitated, searching for any sign of the contact he’d been instructed to meet. What was an elite counter-terrorism agent supposed to look like anyway? The small weedy man in the impeccably tidy suit over by the taxi stand? The harried looking middle-aged woman in business attire who looked like she was waiting for someone? Or would they be disguised? He groaned. It could be anyone. Setting his suitcase down, he scanned the crowd. 

Not far ahead, a hulking muscular man in a thick leather bomber jacket leaned casually against a sleek black car, cigarette held loosely between his lips. Standing head and shoulders above the crowd, everything about him exuded confidence, from his rakish beard, to the self-assured grin that suggested he knew something the world around him didn’t. As Tenzō watched he took a long drag on the cigarette, tapping ash from the end of it and glancing toward a large group of people with oversized suitcases struggling to board a bus.

Everything about his observant manner and precise movements screamed ex-military to Tenzō. That and the way it looked like he was holding back the sort of strength that could snap a man in half – which, given how these ex-military types typically had more prosthetic enhancements than New Tokyo had pachinko parlours – probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

He suppressed a shudder. Certainly, advantage in war was one thing – he could understand the necessity, even if he didn’t like it – but the number of people nowadays who voluntarily underwent cybernetic augmentation, even outside of conflict… It was like people didn’t care to be human anymore.

The only augmentation Tenzō had grudgingly undergone himself was some limited cyberization of his brain. Not even a fully encased cyberbrain either, just the bare minimum communication and networking implants required to function in an increasingly digitised world. More than once his colleagues in Fukuoka had made fun of his old-fashioned views and human limitations, but over time - as more and more of the side-effects of full cyberization came to light, Tenzō considered his choices vindicated. Cyberbrain sclerosis was going to be this century’s cancer. And when all that differentiated the most highly cyberized humans from the androids that could be bought on every street corner was some three per-cent organic matter breathing life into a fabricated shell, and the vague concept of a ghost, where did you draw the line?

The Human Liberation Front might be a bunch of crazy extremists, but Tenzō would grudgingly admit they might not be wrong about _everything_.

The man by the car caught his gaze. “Are you Tenzō?” he asked.

Startled, Tenzō blinked. “Uh, yes,” he stammered. “How did you know?”

The large man chuckled, giving him a knowing once-over. “Oh, just something about the way you look completely lost here.”

Tenzō's heart sank. Of course.

The man stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray of a nearby bin, extending his hand and grinning in the same manner as a bear who’s just seen a cornered rabbit. “I’m Asuma. I’m here to take you to headquarters.”

Of course it would be _him_. Hesitantly, Tenzō shook Asuma’s hand, wincing as he felt his bones grind under his vice-like grip. Definitely enhanced then. Which probably meant Tenzō was in for an entire team just like him. All ex-military, all with jokes and rituals and cliques that Tenzō didn’t understand. It was going to be like the National Police Academy all over again.

“Nice to meet you,” he offered, a little stiffer than intended, already mentally filing his transfer request.

If Asuma noticed, he didn’t show it though. “Come on rookie,” he said, making a flippant gesture toward the car. “Let’s get you introduced to the rest of the team.”

The drive into New Tokyo took about an hour and a half – and if it didn’t exactly set Tenzō's fears to rest, it at least lessened them somewhat. Apart from Asuma’s insistence on calling him “rookie” at every opportunity, the conversation flowed easily enough between them, only occasionally veering toward stilted when it touched on topics either of them lacked familiarity with.

On reaching the city proper, Tenzō's attention was drawn by his new surroundings. Plain but respectable suburban neighbourhoods lined the fringes of New Tokyo’s urban sprawl, ceding to aging high-density housing as they travelled the elevated highway that ran alongside the edges of the bay. Rising from water’s far western reaches – and distinctly more eye-catching than any of the other mangled steel-behemoths that dotted its surface – was a tapering four-sided structure. Constructed from uniquely latticed girders, and slanted into a precarious and unnatural lean, its steep sides and sharp point were somehow familiar, yet quite unlike any structure Tenzō could recall. He frowned at it.

“Tokyo Tower,” Asuma offered, as though reading his mind.

Tenzō let out a low breath. _That_ old thing was Tokyo Tower? It was a wreck. To imagine what had happened to the rest of the city then… to the _people_…

“They’ve fixed a lot,” Asuma continued, apparently content to play tour guide. “But the old city is another matter entirely. You can’t raise it from the ocean, and tearing it down would cost too much. So it’s as is, where is. The local fisherman say it helps with the catch.” He shrugged like that wasn’t important, before adding, “Though you couldn’t pay me enough to eat anything that came out of _that_ water.”

He didn’t expound, but the dark scummy waves lapping at the shoreline were all the explanation Tenzō needed. It made him homesick for the bright clean waters of Fukuoka. This time of year, the cherry blossoms were beginning to bloom in Nishi Park, a soft cloud of pink that settled across the city, bringing citizens out in their droves to enjoy the mild temperatures and lengthening spring evenings. Food stalls lined the paths, joy and laughter breathed life into the season, and there was dancing beneath the illuminated boughs well into twilight.

Compared to _that_, New Tokyo already seemed dull and spiritless. A concrete jungle of twisted steel and blackened ruin caught somewhere between poverty and greed, and utterly beholden to both. A dead city without a soul.

But… maybe Tenzō was just letting his feelings about the move get the better of him…

Asuma hummed to himself, fingers tapping the wheel to the rhythm of a song only he could hear, and Tenzō let his mind wander to the rest of his new team. Would they all be like Asuma? Ex-military types? Privately he hoped not. As much as Asuma seemed nice enough, a whole team like him would make Tenzō feel awfully out of place…

Notoriously secretive, all he really knew about the Section Nine was that they were the best of the best. Tenacious, resourceful and utterly unshakeable in their commitment to protect the citizens of Japan from a world that – at times – felt like all it wanted to do was tear down the hardest won success story of the twenty-first century. 

What little extra information he’d been able to glean was mostly a matter of public knowledge. Each major city of Japan had its own team, and oversight of the political and organisational intricacies associated with it were the domain of each branch’s Chief. Day to day operations were overseen by a field commander, supported by a team of elite experts and the best technology money could buy.

The New Tokyo team was overseen by Chief Sarutobi – by all accounts a fair and reasonable man, and supported by a five (now to be six) strong team. But it was really his new commanding officer who Tenzō was most excited to meet. Captain Hatake was a decorated war hero, and the youngest Section Nine commander in history. Everyone who worked with him sung his praises, describing him as a caring, fearless, and utterly brilliant leader. A military prodigy who’d fought with distinction in the Asian Peninsula campaigns during the fourth world war – and probably the only reason Tenzō felt any real enthusiasm at all for his new posting.

Another city might have been a more attractive lifestyle prospect, but he hadn’t heard half as much about the calibre of their commanders.

As shadow fell across the car Tenzō glanced outside again. They were exiting the highway in an area where the already tightly packed high-rise buildings became impossibly closer, forming narrow barely-passable alleyways lit only by harsh neon glow even at midday. Grimy and time-worn, the individual apartments sported electrical wires, washing lines, and even small gardens, all clinging to the building facades like lichen to a cliff-face – testament to the human ability to eke out life on the margins. Beneath it all, barefoot children wearing little more than rags, ran and played amidst the detritus of habitation at ground level.

“Where are we?” Tenzō asked.

“Shinjuku. Edge of the Refugee District,” Asuma said, then a touch wry added, “Keep your hands and belongings inside the car at all times if you don’t want to lose them.”

Of course Tenzō had _heard_ about the state the refugees lived in, but the reality of it was undeniably grim, even more so than he’d imagined. Nowhere in Fukuoka looked remotely similar to this. To be making light of it…

But they passed through quickly, and before he could dwell on the politics of the matter, the car emerged into a far glitzier area of town. Here the road was wide and tree-lined, with a skyline dominated by modern glass skyscrapers.

“Welcome to Nishi-Shinjuku,” Asuma continued, still far too cheerful for Tenzō's liking. “Don’t worry about before. You’ll get used to the view.”

He turned into a side-street beside an attention-grabbing structure. Dual towers which joined at the middle, decked out in a façade of beetle-wing-blue glass that created strange angles and contrasting colours against the underlying framework. Though not the tallest building in the area, the design was eye-catching design. Even surrounded by other buildings of similar vintage, the overall effect was to convey a certain unmistakeable affluence and power.

Asuma steered the car into a large underground parking lot beneath the northern tower, swiping through a number of security barriers as they descended. A ramp in the far corner of the space suggested it continued down for at least one additional level, but he parked next to a line of similarly unmarked cars and indicated that Tenzo should get out. They made their way to an elevator recessed into the drab concrete wall, activating it via a biometric scanner that recorded their personal data and authorised passage up to the forty-eighth floor. Tenzō's ears popped as the elevator climbed, his heart rising higher in his throat with every level they passed.

Please just let him not screw this opportunity up…

The doors slid open.

A woman with untidy long dark hair and a warm smile met them in a brightly lit modern reception area. She wore a stylish figure-hugging dress, and for the briefest of seconds, Tenzō felt Asuma pause before he stepped out to greet her.

“Kurenai!” he enthused loudly.

“Hi Asuma, this is our new recruit I take it?” she asked, turning her smile onto Tenzō. “Yūhi Kurenai, pleased to meet you.”

She bowed, not too deep or formal, and Tenzō returned the gesture. “Nice to meet you too,” he said.

Something about her quiet understated manner made him feel far more at home than Asuma’s brash swagger. Though it could also have been the way she didn’t look like she could crush him if it took her fancy.

“Kurenai’s our resident tech expert,’ Asuma offered proudly. “Digital forensics, viruses, information retrieval, you name it she can do it. There’s not an attack barrier she can’t hack in all of Japan!”

Kurenai rolled her eyes, but the faint hint of a smile played about the corners of her mouth again regardless. “Asuma exaggerates, but I do what I can. Speaking of which, I’ve been working on setting up your comm link this afternoon. We should probably try it out.”

Tenzō nodded, not entirely sure what to expect. 

**“Can you hear me Tenzō?”**

Jumping in surprise, Tenzō stepped back at the sudden intrusion into his head. It rang through crystal clear, louder than his own thoughts. What the—

Kurenai laughed, smooth and cheerful, and patted him gently on the shoulder. “I’ll take that as a yes. It takes a bit of getting used to, but the communication technology we use is cyberbrain to cyberbrain short-range satellite comm-link with military grade encryption. Completely private, nearly impossible to hack. It pays to be on the safe side when you’re dealing with terrorists.”

Tenzō nodded, trying tried not stare like he hadn’t understood a word of what she’d just said. Even though he hadn’t. Because it sounded… complicated. And just a little bit more advanced than the ancient VHF radios he had been used to using with the police. “Thanks.”

Asuma slapped him on the back. “See, what did I tell you? She knows her stuff!”

It felt more like being punched. If that was Asuma's idea of friendly, Tenzō felt sorry for anyone who got on his bad side. He coughed uncomfortably, trying not to double over in the effort to get his breath back.

“Honestly Asuma, anyone with a degree in computer science could do this, it’s not hard,” Kurenai objected.

Asuma grinned at her. “_I_ couldn’t.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. “Do _you_ have a degree in computer science?”

“Well no, but—” For a moment it sounded like Asuma might argue, but he seemed to decide the better of it. Sighing, he deflated, running a hand through his hair.

Something told Tenzō that despite appearances, Kurenai more than knew how to hold her own.

Smiling sweetly, she gestured to him. “Come on, the rest of the team are waiting to meet you.”

They walked down a long corridor, with Kurenai pointing out the various rooms that branched off it. The armoury, the chief’s office, and her own domain – tech – lit with the eerie blueish light of dozens of screens and heads-up interfaces, and cluttered with wires. Turning a corner, they followed it to the end, passing through a doorway that opened into a generous open central space.

Elegant and contemporary, it featured a sunken floor lined with plush couches, what genuinely appeared to be a small cocktail bar in one corner, and an unbelievably breath-taking view of New Tokyo through floor to ceiling western-facing windows.

Tenzō's jaw dropped.

It was the sort of work environment he and his police colleagues could only dream of. One in which, clearly, no expense had been spared.

“Welcome to our office,” Kurenai said. “This is where we spend our time when we’re not in the field.”

“When we’re not getting shot at and blown up more like,” Asuma added irreverently.

“Asuma…” Kurenai said, a hint of warning in her tone.

But Tenzō's attention had already been drawn to the centre of the room, where three men sat scattered across the couches. All wore military-casual style clothing, and two of the group were holding game controllers, staring intently at an enormous screen on the far side of the room. As Tenzō watched, their two avatars exchanged a succession of quick blows, before one went flying off-screen and vanished in a burst of light.

“Awww!” a man wearing dark sunglasses exclaimed, dropping the controller into his lap and leaning back.

The victor of the match grinned broadly, chewing on a toothpick. “Just like real life eh Aoba?”

The man called Aoba shot him a dirty look, then quick as lightning grabbed the baseball cap from his head. “Says the guy who supports _these_ losers,” he challenged, waving it just out of reach. “How long has it been since the Tigers actually won the championship? Two decades? Or is it three?”

“Closer to three,” the man with the toothpick confirmed, calmly folding his arms. “But they’re in with a chance to beat the Giants this year, just you wait and see.”

“You say that _every_ year.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Why don’t you just give up and support some _real_ champions?”

The other man grinned. “Because unlike _you_ Quick-scope, _I_ have commitment to the things that really matter.”

Aoba pouted, looking like he might have more to say, but a third, serious-faced man beside them cleared his throat loudly. “Guys look smart, we have company.”

At that, all three of them looked across to Tenzō. Immediately self-conscious, he found himself shrinking back, wishing he could back right out the door he’d just walked in. Between the clothing, the banter, and the scar across the serious man’s cheek, it was fairly obvious they all had military experience. It made him feel like a high-school kid who’d accidentally wandered into a university bar.

“Hi?” he said, trying out an uncertain wave.

By his side, Kurenai pointed to each of the men in turn. “Tenzō this is Genma, Aoba, and Raidō. Guys, Tenzō.”

“Hi Tenzō,” they chorused in monotone unison, before looking at each other and laughing like it was some kind of in-joke.

Unable to help a soft sigh, Tenzō began to wonder if somebody hadn’t made a horrible mistake selecting him for this role, when obviously what they’d needed was another aggressively competitive macho type. Not a naturally quiet and cautious police officer with a passion for gardening in his spare time.

But with a soft click, a side door to the room opened and he banished the thought, mentally bracing himself for whatever new embarrassment was going to come next.

The man who walked through it – or more correctly _slouched_ through it – seemed nothing like the rest though.

Lithe and athletic with a shock of silver hair, he was clad in skintight navy blue. A tank top covered his nose and mouth, with elbow length gloves on arms, and simple pants just loose enough to permit unrestricted movement, tucked into mid-calf height combat boots. It was the most curious combination of modesty and overt sexuality that Tenzō had ever seen. The man himself could easily have passed for a model.

It was something about the way he moved – with an easy relaxed poise that belied the finesse of a tightrope walker. And the way every single thing about him was perfectly proportioned, from his elegant facial features to his sculped biceps, the left bearing a curious red spiralling insignia. Military related, if Tenzō had to guess. But arguably his most distinctive feature – and only imperfection – was the lengthy ragged scar that cut down across his left eye, from forehead to cheek.

For a second Tenzō nearly forgot to breathe.

This was him. This was Captain Hatake Kakashi.

The captain surveyed the scene before him, eyes settling on the obviously odd one out in the room. Then without fuss or ceremony, he made his way over. Everything about his manner exuded a laid back and approachable attitude, and it should have put Tenzō at ease, but already he could feel his heart racing faster than it should. What if he said, or did, something wrong?

Kakashi came to a stop right in front of him. “Welcome to Section Nine Tenzō,” he said, in a voice as smooth as honey. 

The tone was quiet and serious, but not unfriendly, and _he knew Tenzō's name._ Well, of course he did Tenzō reasoned - it was his job to know. He attempted to reply and succeeded only in making a strange throaty noise. Honestly, he’d imagined Kakashi would be some huge brawny military guy with all sorts of unattractive cybernetic modifications. Not _this_… this… very human…

“Hi,” he eventually managed to squeak out, about an octave too high. “Pleased to meet you Captain Hatake sir.”

And was it his imagination or did the captain’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly?

“Just Kakashi is fine.”

“Of course captain. I mean Kakashi. Sir.”

Behind him Asuma snorted with laughter. A couple of poorly disguised snickers emanated from the others, and only Kurenai shot Tenzō a reassuringly non-judgemental smile.

He wished the ground would rise up and swallow him.

“I hope you’ll enjoy working here,” Kakashi continued, like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Make sure Asuma gets your equipment sorted. We’ve got a warehouse theft to investigate in the refugee district this afternoon and your police background might come in handy.”

Tenzō swallowed. “I will. Thank you sir.”

Kakashi lingered a moment longer, expression inscrutable, and Tenzō felt distinctly like some sort of exotic animal that had accidentally wandered out of a zoo. But with a barely discernible nod of approval he turned on his heel, exiting the room via the far door, leaving Tenzō torn between a sigh of relief and kicking himself. Hadn’t the man _just_ instructed him not to call him sir? What kind of incompetent impression was he making?

“Alright rookie,” Asuma’s voice rang out by his ear, unmistakeably amused. “You heard the captain. Let’s get you suited up.”

A short while later, Tenzō was squirming uncomfortably against a bulky vest in the back of yet another car. The vest was hot and constricting – much like being wrapped in a Kevlar straightjacket – which, he supposed, was the entire point. However unlike most of his police colleagues who’d seemed to enjoy the adrenaline of being in the line of fire, Tenzō had always preferred the quieter side of policing. Detective work was his forte - dealing with mysteries and people, and unravelling the threads that connected them. 

Not playing at target practice for criminals.

“Comfortable back there?” Asuma asked, turning his perpetual half-grin on the back seat, even though it was blatantly obvious Tenzō was anything but.

“Not really no. How come you don’t get one of these?”

With a deep throaty laugh, Asuma slapped a hand against his chest. “In case you didn’t notice, there’s not much organic left in here to hit. _If_ anyone’s stupid enough to try in the first place.”

And well, Tenzō couldn’t really argue with that. It didn’t explain why Kakashi didn’t have one either though. The captain had been mostly silent since they got in the car, letting Asuma brief Tenzō on their task and chipping in only occasionally to provide extra details. Apparently medical supplies destined for a clinic in the Refugee District had been stolen from a government warehouse near Shinjuku Port. It wasn’t the first time, and suspecting the involvement of a criminal group known only as “Akatsuki”, the government had ordered Section Nine to investigate.

But happy as he was to be brought along, Tenzō couldn’t dampen the curiosity he felt toward his enigmatic leader.

“So… Kakashi,” he started, trying out the name on his tongue. It felt strange. Disrespectful somehow. “May I… ask how you got that scar?”

Kakashi didn’t answer. Eyes glued to the road, only a subtle shift in his posture gave away that he’d heard at all. Dread washed over Tenzō in a sickly wave. That was probably the wrong thing to open with wasn’t it? He probably should have asked literally anything else—

But Asuma laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day and elbowed Kakashi’s arm. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”

Kakashi shot him a wry look, expression communicating some meaning Tenzō couldn’t interpret, and causing Asuma to settle back with a disappointed sigh. “You’re no fun,” he complained.

Entirely out of his depth, Tenzō fidgeted nervously. How very like him, to put his foot in it on his very first day. It wasn’t like he was _trying_ to be rude. People were just hard to read, and he’d always had a knack for asking exactly the wrong questions. “I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, “I didn’t mean to cause any offense.”

“It’s alright.” Kakashi said, eyes still fixed on the road. “It’s from the war. I got it protecting someone very important to me. A friend.”

Tenzō could easily have second-guessed it, but for the briefest of moments, he was almost certain there was a barely detectable hint of emotion in Kakashi’s voice, lending his detached manner a level of humanity that Tenzō felt drawn to.

“They’re lucky then, to know someone like you,” he blurted out, grasping for any common ground on which they could relate.

But Kakashi’s gaze hardened almost immediately. He was silent long enough to make Tenzō feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable, and when he finally did reply, it sounded like he was a million miles away. “Lucky…” he murmured. “Perhaps.”

It sounded almost ironic.

Tenzō sighed. How to turn a small faux pas into a bigger one. Some days it felt like he could probably write a book on the subject. What was he supposed to say to relate to this guy?

**“Kakashi. Asuma,” **a voice interrupted. **“We have a situation developing in Omotesando that requires your attention.”**

It was the same disembodied tone that Kurenai had used earlier, only this time in the wavering timbre of an older man. Chief Sarutobi then, who Tenzō had met briefly before leaving headquarters. 

**“Sure chief,”** Kakashi replied. **“Just send us the details and we’ll be there.”**

**“Kurenai’s sending them to you now. Aoba, Genma, and Raidō are already en-route.”**

Flooring the accelerator, Kakashi wrenched the wheel around, throwing Tenzō sideways as he slid the car a hundred and eighty degrees across a busy road, to face back in the direction they’d come. Cars and trucks scattered, horns blaring angrily.

“Hold on,” he said, probably five seconds too late. Or so Tenzō thought. The acceleration that followed threw him back uncomfortably against his seat.

**“Kakashi it’s Kurenai. Take a left at the next intersection. I’m sending you the footage now.”**

**“Copy.”**

The car fishtailed wildly as it swerved around a queue of stationary vehicles, crossing the centreline briefly before righting itself in a squeal of tyres and burning rubber. Tenzō clutched the fabric of his seat, hoping he’d be able to hold onto his lunch. Car chases, or motion in general, had never been his strong suit.

**“Kurenai.” **It was Asuma. **“What’s going on?”**

They raced past increasingly upmarket buildings and crowds of shoppers out enjoying the fine weather. 

**“A group of men calling themselves the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist have stormed Omotesando Mall and taken members of the public hostage. Their leader is threatening to kill the hostages one by one until Parliament votes down the Veteran’s Pension Adjustment Bill**.”

**“Shit.”** Asuma turned to Kakashi, face grim. “See, I told you that bill was asking for trouble.”

Shrugging, Kakashi threw the car into another accelerated turn. “That’s up to Parliament to decide.”

A brief frown flitted across Asuma’s features. Security cam footage appeared on the screen in the dashboard, showing seven lethal looking men, armed to the teeth, entering a mall packed with shoppers. They fanned out with tactical precision, herding people into huddled groups in the central lobby, then making way for one man - wearing a ridiculously incongruous set of cow-print arm and leg-warmers - who held a gun to the head of a delicate looking child. 

“This bill is farce!” he yelled at the hostages, “Veterans fought for this country. Gave our _lives_ for it. And this is how the government repays us?’’ He shook the child roughly. “By leaving us homeless and without support because we’re the dirty little secret they don't want the world to see?”

He looked like he was hoping for agreement. There was none.

“The fighting in South America was hell!’ he continued, louder still. “Guerrilla warfare in the jungle, day in day out. The rebels ambushed us, slitting men’s throats while they slept, then fleeing like ghosts. Picking off the weak. So you know what this government ordered us to do?”

He stalked around the open space as he talked, staring down any members of the crowd bold enough to make eye contact, and levelling the gun at them if they didn’t look away fast enough.

“They ordered us to raze the villages. After all… how better to get your enemy’s attention than to target their women and children?” A laugh then, even more disturbingly cheerful, “We didn’t shoot them though. Oh no… bullets are _expensive_... We _burnt_ them. In their own homes. Even now, I can still smell it-”

A gasped sob escaped from one of the older women in the crowd. The man’s head snapped up like a wolf noticing a rabbit for the first time. He stalked over to her, pushing his face to hers with mad eyes and a grin full of sharp teeth.

“But of course we didn’t burn them _all_…”

For a second she looked hopeful. Tenzō felt his somach drop sickly. 

“Japan isn’t renowned for advancing medical science because of what we’ve learnt in university labs,” her assailant said, teeth all on display. 

Her eyes widened in horror.

His lips pulled into a nasty sneer. “Oh yes… This country gave up on morality a long time ago.”

The woman let out a terrified sob and he laughed like a man possessed, turning to face the security camera directly. If looks could kill… this one would've been as effective as a finely honed blade Tenzō thought. It made his blood run cold. 

“Nothing in life is for free. There’s always a cost – even if you’re not the one paying. But that changes _today_. This government thinks it can sweep veterans like us under the rug. Deprive us, _silence_ us, while they buy caviar and champagne and host parties to kiss the UN’s ass, like Japan is some shining example for the rest of the world.”

Tenzō didn’t even need to see his expression to know he meant business, but it was there in the footage, plain as day anyway. This wasn’t a man who made empty threats. This was a man with military training who’d planned and prepared for this day – at least well enough to know where the security cameras were, and probably much more. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing. 

“Well no more, Mr. Prime Minister…” the man continued, tone perfectly calm. “You might think you can just use people and discard them, but life comes at a price. You have thirty minutes to pay up, or we start claiming arrears.”

With that final ultimatum, he pointed the gun at the camera, and the feed went dead.

**“Momochi Zabuza,” **Kurenai’s voice interjected,** “11th Division, Japanese Ground Self Defense Force. Discharged on medical grounds after the second assault of Mexico.”**

**“No shit.”** Asuma’s mouth was a hard line. **“I mean he’s not wrong about South America. It _was_ hell. But he’s got more than a few screws loose if he thinks pulling a stunt like this is gonna change anything.”**

**“The others are members of his old JGSDF unit too. So far we’ve identified Suikazan Fugaki, Biwa Jūzo, and Kuriarare Kushimaru.”**

**“Kushimaru? Shit.”**

**“Asuma?”** Kakashi raised a brow.

**“They called him the butcher of Chiapas. I cleaned up after him once back when I was with the Rangers. It wasn’t pretty. If we don’t get there quick…”**

**“It won’t come to that.”**

Kakashi's statement left no room for argument, and it gave Tenzō confidence.

But Asuma gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah well, I hope you’re right,” he muttered, sounding less than convinced.

**“Kurenai, E.T.A?”** Kakashi asked.

**“A little under four minutes at your current speed. I’ve pinpointed the target’s locations in the building. Transmitting now.”**

A three dimensional floor map rose from the dash of the vehicle, with seven red dots dispersed throughout. Kakashi considered it briefly, the slightest hint of a frown creasing lines into his forehead.

**“Aoba?”**

**“Yes captain?”**

**“I want you outside the mall. See if you can get a line on Zabuza, but don’t shoot until I give the order. We don’t want these guys knowing we’re here.”**

**“Sure thing.”**

**“Genma, Raidō, meet us in the loading bay behind the seafood restaurant on the western side. We need to hit hard and fast, and I think I know how.”**

**“See you there boss.”**

**“Kurenai, can you pull up a plan for the mall’s air conditioning ducts?”**

**“Can a fish swim?”**

Asuma groaned dramatically, running a hand over his face. “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?” Kakashi asked, concentration on the task at hand never wavering. 

“Some of us struggle more than others with cramped spaces you know.”

In an incongruously light and innocent tone, considering the situation, Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying something about the disadvantages of excessively bulky prosthetics?”

“I didn’t say that,” Asuma protested.

“Oh? Because I could’ve sworn you did.”

Asuma muttered something distinctly rude-sounding under his breath. But all he said out loud was, “You know, next time we need to wrestle a Type 303 mech suit by hand, I’m volunteering you to do it.”

“Done.”

“Really?”

Kakashi waved a breezy hand his direction. “Don’t be primitive Asuma. That’s what hacking is for. You really should swap those muscles for something a little more strategic one of these days. You never know… you might like it.”

Tenzō snorted in amusement. Apparently Kakashi’s sense of humour was every bit as sharp as his tactical genius.

Asuma shot them both an outraged look. “Hey, I like my muscles!”

“I’ve noticed,” Kakashi responded dryly.

Then the car lurched around another corner, and Tenzō swallowed his amusement with a mouthful of rising bile. Only three more minutes. _Please _don’t let him throw up in front of his new team…

They huddled around a small handheld-unit projecting a three-dimensional model of the mall into the air. Tenzō was grateful for the cool breeze to take the edge off his lingering nausea. Brilliant or not, Kakashi drove like a madman.

**“Aoba, report.”**

**“I can’t get a clear shot sorry. There are too many civilians. If you really get into trouble I might be able to do _something_, but the risk of collateral damage is high.”**

**“Understood.”** Kakashi tapped his fingers against his thigh. **“We revert to the original plan then. Genma, you take the top two floors. Raidō, the middle. Asuma, the bottom two. Use the ventilation ducts and thermo-optic camouflage, and neutralise these guys before they see you, non-lethally if possible. Tenzō and I will find a way to get to Zabuza.”**

The others nodded silently, following up with the sharp clack of ammunition as it was loaded into various weapon magazines. Kakashi pocketed the projection device, checking over his own weapons.

The assault rifle Tenzō had been given sat, heavy and foreign, in his hands. 

**“Everyone,”** the Chief’s voice rang out over the comm link. **“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, but we are a _covert_ organisation. Whatever you do, make sure it’s quick and clean. We don’t need the Cabinet Intelligence Service on our case again.”**

“Those bastards…” Asuma muttered darkly.

Raidō and Genma shared a dark look like they probably agreed.

**“We’ll take care of it Chief,”** Kakashi assured him diplomatically.

**“Very well. Good luck everyone.”**

Securing a pistol in the holster on his thigh with a business-like snap, Kakashi turned to the rest of the group. “Any questions?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Alright, let’s move out then.”

In a flash they vanished, shimmering indistinct mirages disappearing into a small opening in the wall at the rear of the restaurant.

Tenzō stared after them, feeling horrendously unqualified for what he was about to do.

“Ready?” Kakashi asked, not unkindly.

“Uh, I think so?” He couldn’t very well say he felt anything but.

But nothing escaped Kakashi’s notice. He set a firm hand on Tenzō's shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Just follow me, and watch our back.”

Swallowing, Tenzō nodded, hitting the button on his vest that activated his camouflage system. “Alright. Lead the way.”

The ducts were a tight fit, even for someone as small as Tenzō. He crawled along uncomfortably on his knees and elbows behind Kakashi, wondering how on earth Asuma was managing. Despite that, it _was_ an excellent way to infiltrate the premises. The noise of the airflow alone was enough to cover the sound of their scrambling, and with thermo-optic camouflage too, they'd be all but un-detectable. Vaguely he wondered why Kakashi wasn’t using his, before realising that if he did, he would be impossible to follow. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see them as long as they stayed in the ducts anyway.

**“One down,”** Raidō called, shortly after they’d entered.

**“Make that two,”** Genma added, a minute or so later.

Before long they reached a section where the duct split two ways. Kakashi chose the left, beginning a steady ascent that Tenzō guessed led to the upper floors of the mall, though how he was navigating was impossible to discern.

**“Three,”** Asuma checked in.

**“Good work,” **Kakashi replied.** “Tenzō and I are about halfway to the fifth floor. Two-hundred more metres and we’ll be directly over the atrium and Zabuza.”**

The climb steepened again and Tenzō struggled for grip against the smooth metal, bracing his boots awkwardly against the side of the duct to avoiding slipping backward. Kakashi made it look easy, progressing with a purposeful refined motion that Tenzō could only dream of imitating.

**“Four,”** Genma called shortly afterward, adding irreverently, **“You owe me a drink Aoba.”**

There was an unenthusiastic groan over the comm-link. **“Asshole, I can’t do anything from out here! It only counts if I’ve actually got a chance.”**

**“Hang on,” **Genma said, obviously amused,** “I don’t remember that being part of the agreement. Raidō?”**

**“Yeah me neither**,” Raidō agreed. **“And that’s five. You owe me one too Aoba.”**

**“I hate you guys.”**

**“Awww don’t be like that Quick-scope! No words but action-”**

**“-no quarter, no surrender-” **Raidō added in a singsong voice.

**“Give’em hell, we're the infaaantry!”**

**“Will you grunts shut up?” **Asuma grumbled.** “Some of us are actually trying to work here!”**

For once, Tenzō had to agree. The rest of the team’s ability to joke around in the midst of a life-threatening situation was decidedly off-putting. No matter how gung-ho some of his police colleagues had been, a firefight was still a firefight, not a school trip to the museum.

The duct flattened out and he and Kakashi emerged into a large central area, almost high enough to stand in. Multiple smaller vents like the one they’d come from led away on all sides, but Kakashi made his way to a loose panel in the floor on the far side of the space. Withdrawing a combat knife from a sheath at his waist, he inserted it into a crack, levering gently until the metal began to lift. He worked his fingers into the gap and removed it, setting it carefully to one side on the floor.

Glancing below, he held a finger to his lips. Then, gesturing that Tenzō should follow, he activated his camouflage and dropped down. Tenzō jumped down after him, landing off-kilter into a rack of ghastly looking lime-green coats, knocking hangers askew with a loud clatter. He grit his teeth. No amount of multi-million yen camouflage was going to hide _that_.

With difficulty he untangled himself, silently cursing the consumerism that possessed people with money to buy this kind of rubbish. A strong hand grabbed his own, pulling him upright. It guided him out of the store, pushing him firmly by the shoulder toward the railing of the mezzanine floor that overlooked the atrium.

As they got closer, the indistinct background murmur swelled to a wild, manic ranting. Zabuza was pacing back and forth across the space, dragging the small boy with him. Miraculously, it seemed he hadn’t heard Tenzō's slip up. But his relief was short-lived.

**“Uh Kakashi, I think we have a problem.”**

**“What is it Asuma?”**

**“Kushimaru’s not where he’s meant to be, I can’t find-”**

A burst of static cut over the link followed by the vicious snarl of gunfire.

**“Asuma!”** Kakashi called, to no response. **“Genma, Raidō, get over there and back him up now!”**

**“Yes captain!”**

Zabuza’s head snapped up at gunshots, lips bared in a wild snarl. Eyes narrowed, he glared around the space. Searching for _them_, Tenzō realised. He couldn’t see them, but he wasn’t stupid either.

Growling in frustration he dragged the child up like a shield, gun to his head. “Come out come out wherever you are, government dogs! You’ve got ten seconds before I start shooting!’

Adrenaline kicked into life in Tenzō's chest, heart thumping erratically. This was _not good._ They were five floors up with no quick way down, and no way to hit Zabuza without putting the child at risk too.

“Ten!” Zabuza yelled. “Nine!”

**“Aoba?” **Kakashi inquired.

**“No good, I don’t have a clean shot.”**

“Eight! Seven!”

Tenzō felt more than saw Kakashi move by his side. If he really concentrated he could just make out the captain’s fuzzy outline peering out over the railing.

Panic began to set in properly. Tenzō's head felt light, his breaths too fast. His very first day and things were about to go horribly wrong... There was no solution to this that didn’t involve at least one person dying. If they tried to shoot Zabuza from here, they’d likely hit the boy too, and there was no way to get down there in time to stop him.

“Six! Five!”

His fingers tightened round the rail. _Think Tenzō… think! _

**“Maa, I’m going in,”** Kakashi announced, tone as lackadaisical as if he were ordering coffee.

Tenzō blinked. He_ what?_

He turned just in time to see vague shimmer leap out into the open space, and gaped after it. Oh god… there was no way a person could survive that drop. Without so much as a flak jacket for protection! It was an absolute, last-ditch effort. Kakashi was going to die and there was absolutely nothing he could do—

“Four! Thre—”

The floor beside Zabuza exploded into fragments of tile.

It rained down in chunks, then a fine dust that lingered on the air like mist. When it finally began to settle, a figure flew out from amongst the debris, landing a punch to Zabuza's jaw that absolutely _decked _him.

He dropped like a stone.

The figure pressed a boot to his chest, covering his prone form with a gun too. It proved unnecessary. A quick check showed Zabuza was out cold.

Tenzō's jaw dropped open. Kakashi survived… but _how_? That _strength_. It was….

_Inhuman_.

For the second time that day his blood ran cold. _No way_. It wasn’t possible. Kakashi had tattoos. Scars.

But then, what _wasn’t_ possible with modern prosthetics these days? To be standing five floors down without so much as a scratch…

Only a cyborg could survive that kind of impact.

The person he’d thought the most human of them all, had been the opposite all along.

**“Target neutralised,”** Kakashi reported, entirely unaware of Tenzō's existential crisis on his behalf. He flipped Zabuza over and worked a pair of cuffs around his wrists. **“Tenzō, get down here.”**

**“Yes sir,” **Tenzō replied, feeling a little faint. He should have realised. Or someone should have told him. No wonder Asuma had laughed at his idiotically naïve question this afternoon…

But Kakashi hadn’t corrected him either. He’d even offered an explanation for the scar. Had that just been a lie too?

And how did he expect Tenzō to get down there anyway? It wasn’t like _he_ could just jump. Disheartened, Tenzō deactivated his camo, heading for the nearest elevator.

**“Genma, Raidō. Status update.”**

More static, then - **“We’re done here Kakashi.”** Asuma’s confident baritone rang through the comm link. **“Things got er… lethal.”**

**“Are you ok?”**

**“Oh I’m fine. You should see the other guy though.”**

**“It’s not pretty,”** Genma confirmed.

**“Honestly Asuma!” **Kurenai chimed in, and Tenzō swore he could almost see her rolling her eyes. **“I’ll order a clean-up. Again.”**

Tenzō stabbed at the button for the ground floor in frustration. What was he even doing here? A team like this didn’t need any skills he possessed. He wasn’t cut out for military work.

The elevator clunked slowly downward. When the doors finally slid open Tenzō trudged across to Kakashi, feeling entirely superfluous to requirements. Apparently standing around as a pretty representation of diversity was all he was capable of. 

Reporters were already gathering in a cluster outside the front doors to the mall, no doubt hoping for a decent photo of the incident. As Tenzō reached Kakashi’s side the local cops filed in too, surrounding Zabuza and pulling him roughly to his feet. Slowing regaining consciousness - and apparently extremely unhappy about it - Zabuza spat at Kakashi’s feet as he was led away, eyes lingering on the spiralling tattoo.

“Traitor,” he growled. “Fucking government sell-out. You were one of us.”

In stony silence, Kakashi watched him go.

“This isn’t over you know.” Zabuza promised unpleasantly, baring the final shreds of his sanity along with his sharpened teeth. “We _will_ have the final say.”

Kakashi frowned, puzzling on the meaning of his words.

But - head thrown back and laughing maniacally - Zabuza was quickly forced through the waiting throng of eager reporters and into a police car.

Trust a criminal to make empty threats, Tenzō thought. Many did when finally apprehended. But it was obvious Zabuza wasn’t going to be terrorising anyone - handcuffed and incarcerated as he was – except maybe whatever poor prison guard was assigned to watch over him. 

A small hand tugged at Tenzō's sleeve. “Excuse me sir?”

He found himself staring down at the boy who had been Zabuza’s hostage. Up close he was even more likely to have passed for a girl with his dainty features, thick eyelashes, and dark hair pulled up into a neat bun.

“Hi there.” Tenzō bent down slightly. “Can I help you?”

This was more his style. Helping people. 

The boy tilted his head, smiling sweetly at Kakashi and Tenzō. “You both can actually.” He opened his fist to reveal a small handheld detonator, thumb poised over the trigger. “You can die.”

Tenzō's eyes widened, white-hot terror igniting in his chest. _No way_. Then Zabuza— He’d had a backup plan after all? This child, who couldn’t have been more than fourteen, had been working with him the whole time?

In horrifying slow motion the boy’s thumb descended onto the trigger and Tenzō braced himself for the only possible outcome.

A thunderous boom echoed around the atrium and he was knocked to the ground. Beside him, a fine spray of red slicked across the tile. He glanced up, open-mouthed, to find Kakashi’s back between him and the boy, acrid scent of gunpowder hanging thick in the air.

Beyond the captain, a small body slumped to the floor.

The comm link came alive.

**“Kakashi, Tenzō, are you ok? What just happened?”** Asuma demanded, voice filled with barely disguised concern.

Tenzō waited for Kakashi to take the lead. Instead he just stood there, as silent and unmoving as a marble statue. 

**“Hey guys? Come on, give me _something_.”**

“Kakashi?” Tenzō asked, uneasily.

Kakashi’s shoulders slowly began to shake, an awful bone-deep shudder that gradually overtook his entire body, gun slipping from his grasp and landing on the ground with a sharp clatter.

Tenzō didn’t need to ask to know something was very, very wrong. **“Asuma?”** he called, **“We’re alive. But I think you need to get here _now_.” **He got slowly to his feet, grasping Kakashi by the shoulders and forcing him to turn around.

It was horrific.

Crimson blood dripped through his soft silver hair, droplets tracing jagged paths like fractured glass across the ivory skin of his face. At his chin they met in a slow confluence, falling inexorably to the floor, drop by drop. Shards of bone and… _worse_… glistened alabaster against his dark clothing. And his eyes… unseeing and empty, stared vacantly into the middle distance, lips moving to a mutter Tenzō could barely hear.

Just one syllable, repeated over and over.

“Rin… Rin… Rin…”

For the second time that afternoon, Tenzō swallowed thickly against bile. He had to do _something_. Taking Kakashi firmly by the arm, he led him towards the interior of the mall, away from the shocked and curious gaze of the reporters. 

It was only his first day. How had everything go to hell so _fast_?

As the sun sank slowly behind Mt Fuji, the lights of New Tokyo came alive one by one, like a blanket of neon fireflies beneath the gathering dusk. From his place on the couch, Tenzō watched. It was hard to appreciate the stunning view though, given everything that had happened. 

They all felt the same he guessed, glancing at the rest of the team, mute and lost in their own thoughts. There was a tension between them that hadn’t existed earlier in the day. An unnatural silence, like the calm before a storm.

Aoba had poured them all drinks when they got back. He, Genma and Raidō had made quick work of theirs, then proceeded to down a fair few more while Tenzō nursed his first. 

What on earth had happened out there today? From calm, collected and utterly unflappable, Kakashi had just… _broken_. In an instant. Of course Tenzō wouldn’t deny the aftermath of his gunshot had been horrific. But with Kakashi’s military experience, surely it was nothing he hadn’t seen before?

Asuma had dragged him off as soon as they arrived back, gone for nearly an hour or so before he and Kakashi re-emerged, with Kakashi showered and in fresh clothes, looking _nearly_ composed again. A little quiet maybe, but as far as Tenzō could tell, he always was. He and Asuma conversed in hushed tones in the corner, and even though Tenzō tried not to listen, he could still hear more than they probably intended for him to. 

“-sure you’re okay?”

“-fine.”

“not— don’t bullshit Kakashi.”

“leave it.”

“promise me—” 

“What?”

“You _know_.”

“I can’t…”

Kakashi left shortly after that and Asuma collapsed onto the couch with a heavy sigh, eyebrows drawn into a tense frown as he massaged his temples.

Kurenai shot a worried look his way.

“Is everything all right?” Tenzō asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, still seeming distracted.

“It’s just…” Tenzō paused, uncertain how to broach the subject without appearing inappropriate. “Kakashi didn’t seem ok today, after... what happened.”

Asuma closed his eyes at that, breathing out long and slow. When he opened them again, he grabbed the nearest drink to hand and downed the whole lot in a single gulp to a frustrated protest from Genma, before turning his gaze back on Tenzō.

“Look rookie, I don’t know what you have or haven’t seen in the line of duty yet… but some stuff… it just stays with you, you know? Like a weight you have to carry.”

“Uh… sure,” Tenzō agreed, not really following at all.

“The bad stuff,” Asuma clarified, grabbing Aoba’s drink and starting on that too. He stared at Tenzō like he was waiting for the penny to drop. When it clearly didn’t he squared his shoulders. “You must have heard of the Red Dawn incident?”

“Of course,” Tenzō agreed. Was there anyone who hadn't heard about it? The whole thing had been a horrifically public case of cyberbrain hacking, executed flawlessly to make a point. 

“Well Kakashi was agent involved,' Asuma said. “He lost a friend that day.”

“Oh,” Tenzō said quietly, feeling like perhaps this was something he shouldn’t know. Then, eyes widening, “Oh...” as the full implication of it really sunk in. 

“Yeah.” Asuma stared into his glass as though willing it to refill itself. When showed no signs of doing so he set it down with a clunk, reaching for a cigarette instead. He lit it immediately, taking a long and grateful drag. “So I think he just… well...”

Silence hung between them full of awkward tension and implied meaning.

Abruptly Asuma stood. “Good work today rookie,” he said flatly. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to sort out, with your move and all.”

Tenzō stood, recognising a dismissal when he saw it. “Of course. Thanks Asuma. Have a good night.”

A chill had begun to set in as he made through the streets to the small empty apartment he’d rented, picking up a cheap bowl of katsu from a restaurant on the way. Today had been more than he’d bargained for in so many ways. Simultaneously everything, and nothing like what he’d been expecting.

The only thing truly clear to Tenzō at this point, was that to make something of himself in New Tokyo, he was going to need to up his game.

* * *

They surrounded him the second he walked through the apartment door, nosing at his hands like they could sense something was wrong. Dogs were good like that, Kakashi thought. Better than people.

He sank onto the edge of the bed, and they jumped up beside him. Bull took up a spot at his back while Ūhei rested his muzzle on Kakashi’s leg, whining quietly. Absentmindedly he ran his fingers through Shiba’s soft coat.

What a nightmare of a day. Just like the day he’d lost her…

From the small dresser beside the bed Rin’s cheerful smiling photo seemed to watch him, silently judging. He hadn’t been able to help her either. Too late and unprepared, just like always…

_“Ka..ka..shi…”_

The guilt hung heavy on his shoulders. With a tired sigh he turned her photo face down. She didn’t need to see him like this. With all his weaknesses on display.

Sliding the top drawer of the dresser open, Kakashi withdrew a glass vial. It was small – barely half the width of his palm – and filled with a bright red liquid that almost seemed to glow with from within. With practiced ease he ran fingers over the back of his neck, tracing out four diamond shaped ports there – a direct line to the last remaining shreds of his humanity.

_“Hell is empty Kakashi…”_

No matter what he did, she was always with him. Her, and everyone else he’d ever let down.

_“…and all the devils are here.”_

Outside the window, the city glowed neon. Flicking open the cover of the bottom left port, Kakashi snapped the vial into place, and pushed down.

The effect was instantaneous.

It fell through his fingers, empty – ironically like his life he thought. Vision blurring, he lay back on the bed, surrendering to the irresistible pull of the drug. The sweet whispers which drowned out the nightmares in his head, promising oblivion. Outside, the colours of the city bled and ran together like watercolour painting, fuzzy and indistinct. 

This… Some days it was all that kept him sane.

And if he died?

Well… that might actually come as a relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Well that was a massive first chapter. And a lot of infodump sorry… Hopefully it all kind of made sense. From now on the story will be from Kakashi’s POV. 
> 
> As far as updates go, I don’t have a set schedule for this fic (rather I have a busy full time job that prevents that kind of commitment). But I can tell you this story is my baby. It's literally my favourite storyline out of anything I have written, am currently writing, or plan to write in the future. The fact I’m even starting it means I will finish it, it might just take some time!


	2. Cyberbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team investigates a warehouse theft, Danzō makes an unwanted appearance, Kakashi makes a new friend and visits an old one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you so much to everyone who commented and gave feedback on the first chapter of this story. It got far more response than I’d ever hoped for! I know it’s been a long wait, but please know you guys have really helped give me the motivation to get this chapter done. 
> 
> This chapter is also named for the song "Cyberbird" by Yoko Kanno, which is one of my favourite songs from GITS, and makes me think of Kakashi in this story. You can listen to it [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfUpn6pJFrs)

Kakashi entered Section Nine Headquarters to find eerily quiet and deserted corridors, entirely uncharacteristic for a Wednesday morning. Something about the building’s deathly silence made the back of his neck prickle, in a way it shouldn’t have been able to anymore. Though in fairness, that could also have been an after-effect of the drug…

He made his way through the corridor, passing empty offices and trying to ignore the pounding headache developing beneath his temples. As artificial as his body might be, science still hadn’t developed a way to replace the human brain yet. Too bad, Kakashi thought.

He found the rest of the team holed up in the central lounge, clustered around a digital projection of the day’s news headlines, with a strained atmosphere reminiscent of a funeral. As Kakashi approached, they parted, eyeing him apprehensively. The reason why soon became apparent.

The headline for the day was an exposé piece, hypothesising about the existence of top secret government organisation, formed to deal with situations exactly like Omotesandō Mall. It even had a photo – too grainy to be identifiable to the average citizen – but in it, Kakashi could clearly recognise himself.

He took deep breath. So much for quick and clean. And the blame for that was going to come right back to—

“Kakashi,” Asuma began, uncharacteristically wary. “The chief wants to see you in his office.”

Trying not to fixate on the sympathy in his expression, Kakashi sighed, forcing his voice to remain neutral. “Thanks Asuma. I’ll go and see him now.”

Asuma nodded, looking like there might be more he wanted to say. But if there was, he chose not to voice it, for which Kakashi was immeasurably grateful. The last thing he needed right now was another lecture. No matter what Asuma thought of his life choices, he was more than well versed in managing his addiction after so much time. 

He trudged down the corridor to Chief Sarutobi’s office. Before he could open it though, someone else emerged.

The old man walked with a stick and a limp, his right arm tucked securely into a sling. Bandages covered one eye, and a distinctive cross-hatched scar cut across the sagging wrinkled skin of his chin. His visible eye was dark and sharp though, and when he saw Kakashi it narrowed, lips pulling thin. 

“Good morning, _captain_…”

The sarcasm in the his tone was impossible to miss. Kakashi stood his ground. “Director Shimura,” he offered icily. 

The Director’s expression edged closer to a sneer. “Excellent work at Omotesandō yesterday captain. I must say… I’m very much looking forward to conducting the investigation.”

Kakashi’s stomach sank. If Danzō was here, it meant the cabinet ministers were asking questions again. Or at the very least, Danzō had convinced them to. Not hard when his fingers and money were firmly embedded in nearly every corner of the government. Give Danzō an inch and he would take a mile. Then probably turn it against you somehow.

Using all of his willpower to manifest a nonchalant shrug, Kakashi stepped aside. Tempting as it was, when it came to Danzō, it was usually better to let sleeping dogs lie. “And I look forward to cooperating fully with the Cabinet Intelligence Service in due course.”

Mouth turning down like he’d hoped for more, Danzō grunted, pushing past Kakashi and shuffling down the hallway.

Frowning, Kakashi watched him go. There was something inherently distrustworthy about a wealthy would-be politician who found the time to dye his greying hair black, but chose not to fix the disfiguring scars on his face. He sighed again, shaking the thought from his head, then squinting as the sudden movement brought on a dull aching pain. Leaning against the wall, he breathed steadily until it passed.

_Damn. Maybe he did overdo it last night…_

“Ah Kakashi,” Chief Sarutobi said, looking up from his work when Kakashi stepped into his office. 

“Morning chief. What did Danzō want?”

The chief made a derisive noise. “To tell me personally that the CIS is opening an investigation into whether or not Section Nine overstepped our mandate at Omotesandō yesterday.”

Kakashi dropped into the seat opposite him, cocking his head. That much, at least, came as no surprise. “And?”

“He’s got nothing and he knows it. He’s just hoping to intimidate us.”

“You’re not worried?”

Fingers laced together and elbows propped up on the varnished mahogany, Chief Sarutobi shot him a sharp look. “No. You were well within mandate to take the action you did. In fact, if you _hadn’t_, I expect we’d have more to answer for.”

“Hm.” Kakashi nodded, eyes straying to the surrounds of the office. Skyscrapers towering outside of the windows behind the chief. Dark wood panelling, rich fittings and burgundy carpet, all slightly hazy round the edges with his still drug-affected vision. 

_Burgundy, like crimson, like blood…_

“What I can’t figure out,” the chief was saying, brows still pulled tight. “Is what he hopes to get from it. He’s got an ulterior motive, or he wouldn’t waste the time.”

Kakashi dug his fingers into his thigh. _Focus, Hatake. _“He does want to make a name for himself in Parliament.”

The chief sat back. “Oh… I’m certain he wants more than that. But I don’t see how this is going to achieve it. Even if he does manage to bring us up on charges – which he won’t – it’s not going to win him the party nomination for prime minister, and I guarantee he knows it. Which means he’s after something else.”

Kakashi hummed. The chief’s assessment was usually right when it came to Danzō. The two of them had been crossing paths for years, most often on opposing sides of government red tape. But Danzō sniffing around was the last thing Section Nine needed right now, not when they were already dealing with the dual spectre of unrest in the Refugee District, and the rising threat of Akatsuki.

“So what do you want me to do?” Kakashi asked.

Lips pursed, the chief thought for a moment. Then he grimaced. “Nothing, for now. Tell your team to continue as normal, but keep your eyes open.”

Kakashi nodded. “Okay.”

“I want you back on the warehouse thefts today. Take a couple of Tachikomas with you too. They need a proving run, and Orochimaru’s been on my case about it. You know how he gets.”

How Orochimaru got when a pet project of his was involved, was indeed something Kakashi was all too familiar with. Still, he hesitated. “You don’t think that’s sending the wrong message right now? Entering the Refugee District with spider tanks?”

The chief sighed like he probably agreed, but some things, namely those involving large egos and money changing hands, went above even his head. “Have them use thermo-optic camouflage if you like. But the way things are going, you might be glad of the back up.”

As if _that_ wasn’t an unsettling thought. Things in the Refugee District had never been good, but they’d never been this bad before either.

“All right.”

Kakashi stood, making his way slowly back out to the lounge, lost in thought. What could Danzō be after? Other than his usual goal – more power and influence. But that alone didn’t explain this latest investigation…

“What’s the story?” Asuma asked as Kakashi entered the lounge.

The whole team looked tense and on edge, like they were hanging on Kakashi’s words. But… Danzō _did_ tend to have that effect on people.

“Just Danzō back to his usual games,” Kakashi said, feeling particularly spiteful that the CIS director had picked today, of all days, to do it. To be fair, there was never a _good_ time to interact with Danzō. But Kakashi could’ve done without anything else to worry about today, on top of his pounding headache and the memories he wished he could forget. “We’ve got nothing to worry about, but try to keep things clean from now on. Don’t give him anything he can use.”

Around the room, everyone nodded. The team seemed abnormally restrained, with none of the joking or joviality that normally accompanied their interactions.

“We’re back on the warehouse case today too,” Kakashi added, gesturing around the room. “Tenzō, Asuma, you’re with me. Kurenai, you’ll be our eyes and ears. The rest of you, keep digging into Akatsuki and see what you can find.”

Tenzō’s head perked up. He looked bright-eyed and excited to be chosen and Kakashi couldn’t help but cringe. It didn’t take a genius to tell Tenzō had something of a hero-worship complex going when it came to his new captain.

If only he knew how little there actually was to admire…

“We’re taking the Tachikomas too,” Kakashi said, doing his best to ignore it. 

Asuma grinned broadly. “Finally!”

It was all Kakashi could do not to roll his eyes. “Don’t get any ideas,” he warned. “I know all about the natural oil you’ve been sneaking to Unit 22.”

With a shrug, Asuma waved his concern away. “I don’t see the problem. Organic food is good for people, natural oil is good for machines!”

“Exactly... _Machines_ Asuma. Don’t get attached.”

The face Asuma made suggested he disagreed and Kakashi knew it was pointless to argue. Asuma would do things his own way, just like he always did.

In the locker room, he strapped his forearm guards over his gloves, pulling tight to secure them. While Tenzō and Asuma were preoccupied chatting in the far corner, Kakashi took the opportunity to turn his back to them, retrieving a couple of pain relief pills from his locker and swallowing them dry. Hopefully they’d kick in before he got to the Refugee District.

That he’d now sunk so low as to be fixing his existing problems with new problems, barely even warranted consideration anymore.

Together, the three of them made their way down to the second level of the parking garage. As they walked, Tenzō fell in by Kakashi’s side, an overexcited spring to his step.

“I’ve been reading over the case file on Akatsuki, cap— Kakashi,” he enthused. “It’s really quite fascinating.”

“Oh…” Kakashi asked, forcing himself listen, despite his aching head. “What part?”

Tenzō smiled, tentative but earnest. It made Kakashi wonder if maybe he’d been head boy of his school, captain of the debating team, a boy scout leader, or possibly all three at once. He certainly looked that kind of ardent. It was indescribably irritating.

“There’s an identifiable pattern to their criminality, around what targets they select, and how they conduct their thefts… especially the calling card they leave behind.”

He continued talking and Kakashi tried to concentrate on it… he really did. But Tenzō’s enthusiasm hurt his head. The fact someone so clearly… _good_… even thought Kakashi worthy of respect, only served to lengthen the already too-long shadows of his past.

Not for the first time, Kakashi wondered if the chief hadn’t made a mistake in bringing Tenzō on board. His case records from Fukuoka and feedback from his colleagues certainly did paint an image of a thorough, considered, and highly competent detective. Maybe that was even what Section Nine _needed_ in the fight against Akatsuki right now. But the fact remained that he was overoptimistic, innocent, woefully underprepared and under-enhanced for the realities of the work Section Nine did.

And Kakashi could never forgive himself if someone whose safety he was entrusted with got harmed on his watch again.

As they entered the lower level of the garage, several Tachikomas looked up.

The Tachikomas were curious experimental machines – part weapon, part advanced AI – with a reinforced metal body modelled after the shape of a jumping spider. They possessed four main legs, a rear pod just large enough to fit a small person inside, and two shorter forearms with three-clawed hands, most often used for gesticulation when they talked. Combined with the three spherical eyes in their head, it anthropomorphised them in a way uncommon in most military grade hardware.

Developed specifically for Section Nine by Orochimaru, the head of AI and Prosthetics Research at the University of New Tokyo, each Tachikoma unit formed a small part of a larger AI construct. By day, they operated as individual units, but by night, they linked to a server that hosted their collective consciousness to share experiences and data. The result was that no single Tachikoma could separate its experiences from any other, which – the way Orochimaru explained it – ensured a consistent “personality” of sorts, and protected against the development of individuality.

Regardless, the one trait all Tachikomas shared, was a childlike curiosity about the world around them. Whenever they ventured outside of headquarters, they had to be actively managed into staying on task, and it wasn’t unusual to find them debating long into the night about ethics, philosophy, and the nature of the human condition.

In short, the world around them proved an endless source of fascination and mystery, in a manner that Kakashi found extremely tiresome.

“Captain! Mr. Asuma!” a Tachikoma exclaimed, pulling to a sharp stop in front of them.

Like all of the units, it was painted blue and spoke with a high-pitched, excitable tone, not entirely dissimilar to a stereotypical anime girl. Why on earth Orochimaru had picked _that_ voice was anyone’s guess, but Kakashi had a running bet with Kurenai over whether it was deliberate – some kind of a personal joke at the military’s expense – or just an experiment to see how long it took before one of the Section Nine team snapped and hacked them into silence. 

Knowing Orochimaru though, it was probably something else entirely.

“Do we get to go on a mission today captain?” the Tachikoma asked, looking between Kakashi and Asuma hopefully.

Two more units rolled up behind it, their manner curious. Each unit had a designating number painted on their pod, and the three units who’d come forward were 10, 28, and 22. Kakashi recognised 22 as the unit that Asuma had taken a shine to, but the other two looked nearly identical to the remining six arrayed around the garage.

“You sure do!” Asuma said, voice booming through the cavernous space as he grinned.

The first Tachikoma threw its forearms up in the air, spinning excitedly in a tight circle.

Unit 28 inched closer, more cautious and reserved than the others. “What will we be doing?”

Kakashi tried to ignore the way Tenzō’s eyes looked like they were on stalks. Of course this would be a novelty for him. Advanced AI and military equipment like the Tachikomas weren’t something you could pick up on a Police Department budget. Or clearance. But, he was going to have to get used to it.

“We have a crime scene to investigate in the Refugee District,” Kakashi explained. “You’ll accompany us as backup to secure the site and keep a lookout while we work.”

The first Tachikoma deflated a little. “Aw…” it complained, rotating its clawed hands and aiming them towards an imaginary target. “But I wanted to try out my guns!”

The Tachikoma next to Asuma rolled its eyes. “You can’t fix everything with guns you know. My assessment of human to human interactions has suggested that logic and diplomacy are usually the better course of action.”

“But then… why did they fit that one with extra cannons?” 10 asked, indicating a Tachikoma near the back of the room, equipped with a stunning array of heavy weaponry. The others turned to stare at it, and it gave them a little wave.

Kakashi sighed. Unit 9 was an anomaly, even amongst Tachikomas. “Enough. The three of you will come with us. Follow close behind, but activate your camouflage when we get close to the Refugee District. We want to keep a lookout, but not draw so much attention we cause an incident.”

In front of Kakashi, Unit 10 attempted a salute, “Yes captain!” it shouted.

The other two behind it shared a glance that Kakashi felt like he could relate to on a personal level. Then all three of them sped away, heading up the ramp to the surface. 

Shortly afterward, Kakashi, Tenzō and Asuma followed in an unmarked black car. Not long into the drive, Tenzō turned to Kakashi, brows pulling into a troubled frown.

“So, the Tachikomas seem…. interesting.”

Kakashi glanced over. Already, he found himself wondering if Tenzō didn’t have some kind of problem with AI and cyberization. He seemed wary of it and, between his own lack of enhancement and the looks he’d been giving Kakashi since yesterday afternoon, it was enough to get Kakashi thinking. “Hm,” he remarked, noncommittally.

Tenzō swallowed, looking out the windows to where the machines in question were currently following, invisible, behind them. “Can we trust them to do their job?”

“’Course we can!” Asuma declared, turning to face the back seat. He sounded personally offended that Tenzō might actually harbour doubts. “Right Kakashi?”

Kakashi hesitated, watching the white lane markings of the highway speed past. In front of them, the dirty mid-rise of the Refugee District drew ever closer.

The Tachikomas were machines. Artificial constructs designed and programmed to fulfil a purpose. Any impression they gave of something more was only surface deep. To assign them human characteristics such as trust, or free will, was to fundamentally misunderstand their nature.

“They were created by Orochimaru,” he said, biting back a wave of bitterness that threatened to rise in his throat at the thought. Funny how the human brain worked… always recalling sensations it used to possess, long after they were gone. Like a phantom pain. “They’ll do their job.”

If Tenzō was reassured, he didn’t look it.

As they turned into the Refugee District the streets narrowed considerably, making it harder for the Tachikomas to follow. Neon signs lit the gloom, marking out hole-in-the-wall restaurants, second hand electronics retailers, and android chop shops. Other, less legal, businesses hid down the claustrophobic alleyways that took up every available inch of the space between buildings. Between them, people milled about, looking entirely indifferent to the squalor. 

By the time they arrived at the warehouse, the Tachikomas were already deep in a discussion about the politics of the matter.

Unit 10 made a noise of confusion, gesticulating at their surroundings. “But, what I don’t understand is, why do all the refugees have to live here? Why can’t they just live in the rest of the city with everyone else?”

“It does seem unfair…” 28 agreed.

Waving its arms around, 10 bounced up and down, sounding vindicated. “Right? I mean… aren’t all humans fundamentally the same regardless of the location of their birth, Mr. Asuma?”

Kakashi raised his eyebrows, watching as Asuma’s face contorted through an awkward range of expressions, finally settling on a kind of uneasy confusion.

“Uh well, it doesn’t exactly work like that…” he said hesitantly. “Countries only have so much money, so when a whole lot of people from other places show up needing help, they naturally prioritise the rights and welfare of their own citizens first.”

Unit 22 looked down, joining the claws of its forearms together in an oddly thoughtful gesture. “But… doesn’t that kind of institutionalised inequity just lead to the creation of a disenfranchised subclass, ultimately causing the kind of civil unrest we’re seeing in Japan now?” 

Asuma stared, mouth hanging open, and Kakashi snickered. He looked forward to seeing Asuma talk his way out of _this_ one.

Pulling up beside Unit 22, 28 joined in. “It seems to me it would be more beneficial to afford equal rights to all humans,” it suggested. “That way the social contract formed between the state and the individual would act as a disincentive to retaliate against the system.”

“Yeah!” Unit 10 enthused.

“Well err… _you_ just try telling that to the prime minister,” Asuma mumbled under his breath.

It was just as well Kakashi’s painkillers had already kicked in, otherwise the discussion would undoubtedly have been giving him a headache all over again.

Unit 10 glanced at its fellows, a sag in its posture suggesting uncertainty, “So then… if not all humans are created equal, what does that mean for machines like us? Do we have rights?”

Raising an arm, 22 hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think the same rules apply. We don’t have ghosts.”

“But, how do you know we don’t?” 10 asked.

“Because only humans can have ghosts, dummy,” 28 offered, rolling all three of its eyes.

22 joined it, looking like the answer was obvious. “Yeah, did someone drop you on your logic processor at build?”

**“Are you guys there yet?”** Kurenai asked, her easy tone interrupting Kakashi’s thoughts.

**“We’re here.” **Kakashi confirmed.** “Asuma’s just debating ethics and morality with the Tachikomas again.”**

Making a rude gesture in his direction, Asuma objected. **“Hey, I didn’t start it.”**

**“You didn’t stop it either,” **Kakashi observed, raising a wry eyebrow.

Asuma made a face at him and Tenzō looked on awkwardly, seemingly confused by the whole exchange.

**“_You_ try to stop them once they get started,” **Asuma complained.

Kakashi shrugged, pulling up the team communication interface on his synthetic vision and patching the Tachikomas into it. **“Listen up all of you. I want you on perimeter guard. Stay quiet and out of sight, but let us know straight away if you see anything suspicious.”**

**“Yessir!” **the machines chorused in unison, quickly dashing away.

Kakashi turned back to Asuma.

**“_Don’t_ say it,” **Asuma warned.

Kakashi held up his hands, placating. **“Didn’t say a thing.” **

With a dubious look as though to say he knew Kakashi was still _thinking_ it, Asuma squared his broad shoulders, heading for the warehouse. **“All right, let’s take a look at this place.”**

They entered through a small side door that led to an old foreman’s office. The building itself was a dilapidated concrete and steel affair, so neglected as to obviously date from the pre-nuclear war era. Inside, it was dark, the only natural light coming from small holes in the roof, through which slim snatches of sky were occasionally visible.

Kakashi removed a torch from his pocket and shone it around the vast open space. It was probably nothing short of a miracle the building was still standing at all. It was exactly the sort of place that would have harboured a lethal dose of radiation, had it not been for the Japanese Miracle. In that sense, it reminded Kakashi a lot of the Peninsula…

A cold shiver slid down what remained of his spine.

_Tunnels in the dark, the taste of metal on his tongue… _

Clenching a fist, so tight that his fingernails cut into the bio-film of his skin, deep enough to trip the pain receptors, Kakashi took a deep breath.

**“Okay Tenzō, tell me again what we know about this theft.”**

Tenzō glanced up from where he was spotlighting a stack of busted wooden pallets. **“Uh… It was a delivery of food and medicine for the refugees, supplied by Wave Company, and paid for by the government. It arrived in the warehouse on late Sunday night, and by Monday morning it was gone.”**

**“Any other information?”**

He shook his head. **“None. There aren’t many security cameras in the area, but the ones that exist only show the trucks making the delivery. No one else comes or goes for the rest of the night. Nothing to indicate how the goods were taken.”**

**“That doesn’t mean much,” **Kurenai interjected.** “They’re standard retail cameras hooked up to the nets. Anyone could hack them to conceal the footage.”**

**“Maybe not _anyone_…”** Asuma added, clearly angling to get into Kurenai’s good graces again. 

Kakashi snorted. Asuma was being so obvious it was almost painful. **“Can you look into it Kurenai? See if the footage was tampered with?”**

**“Of course. If it has been, I should know.”**

**“Thank you. The rest of us will spread out and sweep the building for any remaining evidence.”**

They split the building into thirds, each taking responsibility for a searching particular segment. It took the better part of half an hour to turn the place upside down, looking for clues. But beneath all the empty crates, rat’s nests, and general detritus, the warehouse appeared empty of both contents and any clues about who Akatsuki might be, or how they’d stolen the supplies.

The only thing even worth noting was a single blue origami flower, placed carefully in the very centre of the warehouse. Too carefully to have been dropped accidentally.

**“Exactly the same as the others,”** Asuma concluded. **“It’s got to be them.”**

Loath as he was to admit defeat, Kakashi was forced to concur. On the face of it, it was yet another textbook Akatsuki robbery, without so much as a single breadcrumb left behind to give them a trail back to the perpetrators.

**“C— Kakashi?” **Tenzō began, crouching down next to the paper flower.

Kakashi glanced over at him. **“Yeah?”**

Tenzō’s expression looked troubled. **“The case notes were very specific about the detail of the origami flower in all the previous thefts…”**

**“Did you find something?”** Asuma asked, joining them.

**“Maybe… In all previous instances the paper used was quite unique. An old-fashioned bamboo blend originating from a single province in northwest China. After folding, the piece was coated in a thin layer of wax to seal it and ensure longevity.”**

Kakashi moved to join them, crouching down next to Tenzō and examining the flower too. **“You’re about to tell me this isn’t the same, aren’t you?”**

Tenzō pursed his lips, nodding. **“It’s standard commercial washi paper with no coating. Not only that, but the detail of the folding isn’t as precise. It’s like someone tried to replicate the original, but didn’t get it quite right.”**

**“You mean, like someone wants us to think Akatsuki left it?”** Asuma asked.

**“Exactly.”**

Kakashi hummed with interest. Now he looked closer, Tenzō was right. **“The specific details of the flower in previous thefts were never made public. Only the fact of its existence. So anyone trying to imitate it couldn’t possibly have known.”**

Which raised more questions than answers. If Akatsuki weren’t responsible, who was? And why did they want law enforcement to suspect Akatsuki? Easier to leave no trace at all, than to misdirect the blame elsewhere. Of course, it could be rival group or gang, but somehow, that didn’t feel like the right answer…

**“There’s something else,”** Kurenai added. **“I’ve done a thorough analysis of all the video footage, and so far there’s nothing to indicate tampering of any kind. The delivery trucks rolled into the warehouse at 11.43pm, and left again at 12.21am. After that, no one entered or exited the warehouse until the manager who reported the theft at 7am.”**

Tenzō straightened, catching Kakashi’s eye. **“So either the trucks arrived empty, left full, or there’s something else going on we don’t understand.”**

Kakashi nodded. Maybe having an ex-detective on the team could be valuable after all.

As Tenzō and Asuma discussed the find between themselves, Kakashi let his thoughts wander. Considering the lengths certain people were willing go to to paint the refugees in a bad light, this turn of events was ominous, to say the least. But suspicion alone wouldn’t solve the case. They needed more, and the best place to start looking for it was probably where the shipment left fro—

**“Captain!” **

A shrill voice cut through Kakashi’s thoughts. One of the Tachikomas.

**“Captain there’s someone approaching the outside of the warehouse. Do you want us to stop him?”**

Kakashi frowned, hand slipping to the gun on his thigh by force of habit. **“Does he look like a threat?”**

**“Just looks like a refugee kid Kakashi,”** Kurenai interjected.

**“Copy that.”**

Tenzō, Asuma, and Kakashi stared at each other.

**“Maybe he saw something,”** Asuma suggested. **“If he lives nearby.”**

Kakashi tipped his head in agreement. **“It’s definitely worth asking. If he’s open to talking.”**

Seeming confused, Tenzō glanced between them. “Wait… he might not be? Doesn’t he _have_ to talk to us?”

Asuma and Kakashi shared a knowing look. Boy, was Tenzō ever green.

“Most refugees don’t like interacting with Japanese citizens,” Kakashi explained. “Apart from law enforcement, not many even bother to come here, except to cause trouble, and the refugees only really venture out for work. It’s not exactly a recipe for positive relationships.”

Tenzō’s wide-eyed expression suggested that this was news to him. Not every city in Japan was as heavily divided as New Tokyo and Niihama, and Kakashi guessed Fukuoka wasn’t one of them. But considering it was the capital, that was hardly surprising. The government _would_ want to ensure the country put on its best face for visiting foreign officials and dignitaries.

Asuma clapped a hand on Tenzō’s back. “Told you, you’ll get used to it.”

Somehow, Tenzō didn’t look terribly excited by the prospect.

Kakashi sighed. **“Well then… let’s find out what he has to say.”**

He emerged from the warehouse next to stack of crates and broken bottles, to find the kid eyeing their car curiously. To be fair, he was less a kid, more a teenager, with an untidy mop of dark curls, a lean, stringy frame, and long-lashed dark eyes which widened when he turned and saw Kakashi.

“Uh… hi?” he said, swallowing visibly and looking like he wanted to bolt the other way. 

Kakashi held out his hands so the kid could see he didn’t mean to pose a threat. “Hi,” he offered, coming to a stop several metres away. Judging by the teen’s casual clothing and unkempt appearance, he was more than likely a local. “Do you live around here?”

Cautiously, the boy nodded. “Yeah. Just round the corner.”

Gaze steady, Kakashi pointed over his shoulder to the warehouse he’d just exited. “There was a theft here several days ago. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

Despite his obvious nerves, the boy was surprisingly defiant. He jutted out his chin determinedly, standing a little taller. “Depends who wants to know.”

His bravado was admirable, if somewhat ill advised. “Maa, I’m with the government,” Kakashi reassured him. “We just want to help. To make sure those supplies get to the people who need them.”

Immediately, the teen’s shoulders relaxed, face breaking into an easy smile that reminded Kakashi far too much of someone else he’d once known. Not the usual result got when sharing his employer in this neck of the woods.

“You should’ve just said! I thought you were from one of the gangs, dressed up like that, with your fancy car and all…”

The smile made the teen look younger and carefree. More like someone his age should have looked, Kakashi thought. He stepped forward, hands at his sides, inclining his head in a small bow. “I’m Captain Hatake. But you can just call me Kakashi, if you prefer.”

Over-enthusiastically, the teen bowed back. Now that a smile had settled onto his face, it appeared to have no intention of ever leaving again. It made Kakashi’s chest ache in the oddest way.

“I’m Uchiha Shisui. So Kakashi… are you like, from the police or something?”

Kakashi hesitated. “Not exactly…”

Shisui frowned.

“It’s classified,” Kakashi clarified.

Eyes widening, Shisui looked over him again, like Kakashi was a rare unicorn that had just escaped a zoo. “Oh,” he breathed, as though he’d been entrusted with a huge secret. “You’re like, a secret agent or something!”

At a loss for how else define it, Kakashi just inclined his head in agreement. ‘Something like that.”

A delighted grin blossomed over Shisui’s face. “Cool!”

At least he seemed to view it positively, Kakashi thought. Which made it more likely he’d help them.

“So Shisui, did you notice anything you think could help us, either on the night of the theft, or since?”

Shisui shifted excitedly on the balls of his feet. “Well there is one thing… but if I help you, does that make us partners?”

Kakashi considered it. Shisui did seem friendly enough, and it couldn’t hurt for Section Nine to have a direct contact in the district. After all, it wasn’t like people willing to cooperate with the government were easy to come by these days. “I suppose it would make you a contact,” he agreed.

“Awesome!” Cheerful crinkles formed around Shisui’s eyes. “Just like one of those old cop movies.”

Kakashi felt his lips twitch in amusement. It was almost impossible not to like Shisui. There was something about him entirely unlike any of the other refugees Kakashi had met in recent years. An innocence almost, like he still possessed faith in the world to be a better place than it really was. It made Kakashi hope the world wouldn’t let him down.

“Oh!” Shisui exclaimed like he’d only just remembered Kakashi’s question. “But you want to know about the night of the theft.” He pointed down the street. “I live just around the corner, so I’m always seeing the trucks coming and going. Usually they enter the warehouse full, then leave it riding higher on the road, after they’ve been unloaded, you know? But this time, they left full too. Whatever they brought with them, they took when they left.”

It was the answer to at least one part of the mystery Kakashi had been searching for. There _was_ no theft that night. At least not from the warehouse. Whatever was in those trucks had left exactly the same way it had arrived. 

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Expression turning more serious, Shisui nodded. “I’m sure. Like I said, I see them all the time. Same trucks, same procedure. But I’ve never seen them drive away full before.”

Kakashi curled his fingers beneath his chin, thinking. He needed to know how much weight to afford Shisui’s account. “How do I know I can trust you? That you’re not just working with one of the gangs, or covering for the people responsible?”

It wasn’t a nice thing to have to ask, Kakashi knew. But in the current climate, it _was_ an unfortunate necessity.

Looking unfazed though, Shisui shot him a knowing smile. “Not everyone wants to fight the system you know… Some of us believe in working from within to achieve change.”

“Oh?” Kakashi asked, surprised to hear it.

“I have this friend, you see… my best friend, actually, smarter than anyone else I know.” Shisui rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, eyes alight with pride. “He’s going to be the first ever refugee prime minister of this country.”

Kakashi nearly choked on his own disbelief. It was an outrageously bold claim to make. Yet Shisui managed to do it with so much conviction that Kakashi didn’t have the heart to challenge him. He obviously believed in what he was saying.

The truth was that Japan had nearly had a refugee prime minister once before, back when things had been less divisive. Even then, it hadn’t ended well. Personally, Kakashi doubted there would be any appetite to try again for many years to come. After all, the refugees couldn’t vote, so there was no desire from political parties to cater to their interests.

“That’s a noble goal,” he said, by way of middle ground.

Shisui smiled. “Yeah… he’s always been the responsible one.”

Feeling eyes on his back, Kakashi glanced over his shoulder to find Asuma and Tenzō watching him from beside the warehouse. Time to go. He turned back to Shisui. “Well, I have to be going, but thank you again for your information. You’ve been very helpful. Good luck to your friend and his future campaign. Maybe, one day, I’ll even get to vote for him.”

Shisui looked beyond gratified by the suggestion. “I hope so. And Kakashi? If you have any more questions about the theft or anything else, I’m always happy to help. Nakano Street, the apartment block by the park, 5th floor, the door with the red and white crest.”

Kakashi couldn’t really imagine a scenario where he’d need to take Shisui up on his offer, but it seemed like the polite thing to do to thank him anyway. It earned him another smile. 

As soon as Shisui had gone, Kakashi joined the others in the car.

“What did you learn?” Asuma asked.

Clipping his seatbelt into place, Kakashi tried to ignore the way it still looked like Tenzō was hanging, rapt, on his every word.

“The trucks arrived full and left full. Either someone hijacked them en-route, or they never intended to drop off the supplies.” He paused, frowning in thought before bringing up his comms interface again. A transparent overlay of data bled across his real-world view. **“Kurenai… could anyone have known about the scheduled drop off in advance?”**

The response was instantaneous. Clearly Kurenai had been doing her research. **“Unlikely… That information is classified at the highest government levels to prevent just this kind of occurrence.”**

**“Then… we’re dealing with an inside job,”** Asuma concluded, expression grim.

Kakashi met his gaze, making an equally unenthusiastic face. An inside job. Both of them knew how serious tugging on _that_ thread could be.

**“Kurenai, can you contact the chief? Tell him it’s urgent.” **

**“Sure, but Kakashi? It’s probably best you get out of the district now. There are reports of unrest coming in from the Ōkubo area, just south of Toyama Park. It’s only a few blocks from your location. I’m pretty sure we don’t want to test the limits of the refugee’s hospitality right now.”**

**“Copy that.”**

Putting the car into drive, Kakashi sped away. The Tachikomas followed, still chatting between themselves. Kakashi muted them.

When the vehicle cleared the boundary of the district Tenzō released an anxious breath, as if he’d been holding it the whole time. “If it really is an inside job, what do we do?” he asked, looking at Kakashi like he expected him to have all the answers.

“We wait to hear what the chief has to say. But investigating any branch of the government is risky.”

Tenzō frowned, a tight crease forming between his brows. “But why would the government steal from itself?”

Mirthless laughter emanated from the passenger seat. “For starters,” Asuma said, “stop thinking of the government as a single entity and start thinking of it more as a collection of individuals like Danzō, who are all out for their own personal gain.” 

From the look on Tenzō’s face, that didn’t help. “But how does taking refugee supplies help them?”

Kakashi sighed. For a law enforcement official Tenzō was proving to be frustratingly naïve about the realities of the world they worked in. “It won’t be the supplies they want. If the refugees don’t get food and medicine, they’re forced to protest, or use less legal avenues to obtain it, which stokes anti-refugee sentiment. If the wider public think Akatsuki are stealing from the government on behalf of the refugees, it also stokes anti-refugee sentiment. Next year is an election year. You do the math.”

Something about the way Tenzō’s mouth fell open suggested he was watching his comfortable, safe world, dismantled before his very eyes.

“Yeah,” Asuma said bluntly, with a raised brow. “Welcome to New Tokyo, rookie.”

Outside, twilight fell across the city, giving rise to deep shadows that pooled in the forgotten corners of the chief’s office, untouched by the dim amber glow from his desk lamp. The man himself paced back and forth, all but wearing a bald strip in the carpet in front of it.

Kakashi watched from the comfort of the couch, one arm draped loosely along its spine.

“How sure are you?” the chief asked, pausing to stroke his goatee and shoot Kakashi an assessing glance.

“I trust what the kid told us. It fits.”

The chief frowned, looking unusually troubled. No _more_ troubled than he had since Kakashi walked in, but events these days were increasingly troubling to them all.

“You know this is a bad time to be investigating the government… with Danzō already on our case.”

Kakashi leaned back. “I know.”

With a tired sigh, the chief sat at his desk, eyes lingering on a screen that detailed a long list of reports still to be completed. Kakashi already knew what he was going to say. It was what gave him the confidence that he was working for the right people, on the right side.

“Do it. If someone in the government is actively working to destabilise the current refugee situation, it’s our duty to stop them. But be _discreet_. Don’t let Danzō or anyone else get wind of the investigation, or they’ll make sure there’s nothing left for us to find.”

Kakashi nodded, recognising a dismissal when he saw one. “Yes chief.” He stood up, stretching. “What will you do?”

Chief Sarutobi’s lips tightened. “I’m going to get in touch with an old friend. See if he can’t use his contacts to buy us some time with the refugees while we investigate. There’s no benefit to it if they play right into the hands of whoever is orchestrating this, before we can get to the bottom of it.”

Quietly, Kakashi was less than optimistic about his chances. Between the ongoing shortages and ever-tightening laws, more and more of the refugees were out for blood, and Kakashi couldn’t blame them. Violent incidents between citizens and refugees were occurring near daily on the edges of the district, and certain branches of the government were beginning to respond in-kind.

The whole situation was a powder keg, rigged and primed to go off. Liable at best, to descend into a nasty tit-for-tat exchange of violence, or at worst, to blow up in all their faces. Either way though, the refugees were going to come out second best.

Leaving the chief to his duties, Kakashi headed for the locker room. On the way, he passed by the rest of the team, gathered in the lounge.

“Hey Kakashi!” Genma called, still chewing his ever-present toothpick. “You coming to dinner tonight or what?”

Even if Kakashi hadn’t had a prior commitment, the hopeful expression on Tenzō’s face alone would’ve been enough to put him off. So he was glad to be telling the truth when he said, “No sorry… I’ve got a friend to visit.”

Tenzō looked crestfallen, but Genma waved Kakashi off, wishing him a good night. So too, did the rest of the team. Everyone but Kurenai anyway, who appeared next to Kakashi with a conspiratorial smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not going either.”

Across the room, Asuma groaned, hanging his head.

“Hey Kakashi,” Raidō said, extricating himself from the others. “Tell me, are we gonna investigate this case?”

He looked as serious as ever and, at mention of the case, a certain degree of levity bled from the room. Even Kurenai paused, on her way to the elevator, to look back.

“Yes, we are,” Kakashi confirmed.

A murmur of apprehension travelled through the team. But not one of them suggested it was a bad idea. They all knew the risks of meddling in government business, but they trusted the chief and Kakashi to make the right decision anyway. Not for the first time, Kakashi felt proud of his team.

“Have a good dinner,” he said, waving over his shoulder and following after Kurenai.

“Have a good night Kakashi,” someone called after him.

The cheerful dark-haired woman behind the reception desk looked up when Kakashi walked through the door. A bright smile flitted across her lips. “Hello Kakashi! How are you this evening?”

Beside her, on the desk, was a small stuffed toy pig, wearing a necklace of pearls. It gave the harsh disinfected air of the hospital an incongruously homely feel.

“I’m well Shizune… How are you?”

“Oh, good,” Shizune said, her smile taking on a slightly strained quality. “Dodging my mother’s calls again because she’s trying to set me up with yet another ‘eligible man’ she’s found, but otherwise just fine.”

That brought a gentle curve to Kakashi’s lips, if not quite a full smile. The trials and tribulations of Shizune’s love life were more than familiar to him by now. “The perils of being single in your thirties, huh?

The exasperated look on Shizune’s face suggested she was almost at the point of tearing her hair out over it. “Something like that. Gai’s already waiting for you, by the way.”

“How is he today?”

Shizune scrunched up her nose, wobbling her hand in the air. . “You know… No better, no worse.”

Kakashi sighed. Same as ever then.

“Thanks Shizune.”

He made his way down the corridor and knocked gently on Gai’s door.

“Come in!” an enthusiastic voice called.

Inside, Gai was in his wheelchair, already setting a teapot and cups down on the low table by the couch. His apartment was small, sparse but tidy, the best a current military pension could afford. On seeing Kakashi, he smiled his trademark broad grin and winked.

“Eternal rival!”

Making his way across the room, Kakashi let Gai envelop him in a warm hug. “Hi Gai,” he said, patting him on the back fondly, while Gai returned the gesture with twice the enthusiasm. 

Kakashi sat as Gai poured them tea, handing him a cup then settling back, still smiling. He looked well. Rosy-cheeked and positive, in the same unchanging way he’d always had.

“How are you Kakashi?” Gai asked brightly. “You’re looking good! Not going grey like some of us.” He grinned, pointing to the salt and pepper hair at his temples, and Kakashi was overcome by a unwelcome sense of irony.

He tried to put it out of mind.

“I suppose I’m lucky.”

“That you are, my youthful friend! So tell me, have you seen Minato recently? How’s he doing?”

Clasping his fingers around the cup, too tight, Kakashi sipped at the tea. Sencha green, his favourite. The answer came to him automatically, easily. “He’s well. He sends his regards of course.”

“Ah, it really has been too long. Do you still remember the time we all…”

On and on Gai talked, reminiscing about the good old days. Occasionally, Kakashi chipped in to offer agreement, or add details. In an odd way, he supposed both he and Gai were frozen in time.

The clocked ticked persistently on though and eventually, as their time together drew to a close, Gai wheeled himself over to a cage in the corner of the room, producing a small rice ball from a plate nearby. He handed it through the bars to the creature beyond – a slow loris – fluffy, large-eyed and docile. The animal watched him suspiciously for several seconds before grasping the ball with a tiny hand and taking a ponderous bite. 

An ecstatic grin blossomed across Gai’s face. He turned back to Kakashi. “Isn’t it amazing that Lee made it all the way through the war to come back home with us?”

Something ached in Kakashi’s chest – a ghostly echo of the heart he used to have perhaps, threatening to break all over again. Lucky then, that he’d divested himself of his humanity some time ago. It made it easier to smile, a thin, barely-there thing behind his mask, as he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah… it is.”

It was enough to keep Gai happy though, even if it felt like a hollow gesture. And really, that was all that mattered anymore. 

Afterwards, Kakashi made his excuses and wished Gai a good evening. He farewelled Shizune and made his way down the street, hands tucked tightly in his pockets.

A memory that never failed… a body that never grew old… was it a blessing or a curse? Some days it felt like both.

Either way, Kakashi knew there was vial with his name on it, waiting, back at his apartment tonight.


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team concludes a case and Kakashi struggles with memories of his past.

_He stumbled, collapsing to his knees in the muck as a heavy weight dropped down next to him. He had to keep moving, couldn’t stop here. But it was dark… too dark… and claustrophobic. His mouth tasted like blood and metal. The pills didn’t work…. Everything was dimming now, closing in like it was the end of the world. But there was a slant of light too, bright as a sunbeam, gold and… blue… blue like the ocean, and like words muffled from beneath its watery depths. He felt like he was floating, grasping for something… someone… left behind. _

_She gazed back at him, beautiful amber eyes sad, blood trickling from the corner a perfect rosebud mouth…_

_Ka..ka..shi…_

Kakashi jerked awake, sitting upright in his bed. From the floor nearby, one of the dogs raised its head with a whine. Breathing heavily, he pressed the heels of palms against his eyes. That _wasn’t_ how it had happened. Rin had never been there with them, on the Peninsula… That was just his brain mixing memories again, the same way it always did when the drugs began to wear off…

The drugs… Kakashi groaned and reached for the glass of water on his dresser. An empty glass vial clattered to the floor. He stared at it. _Fuck._

How many times had he told himself he wasn’t going to do this anymore? That he was strong enough to overcome the lure of the memories in his head? Maybe for a while, it had even been true. But every night since the incident at Omotesandō, he’d found himself slipping back into his old ways, like the pull of a force he couldn't resist. 

It wasn’t like he’d even cared about the kid he’d shot. The exploitation of someone that young… maybe? But it and its inevitable outcome had been Zabuza’s responsibility, not Kakashi’s. In the heat of the moment, he’d done the only thing he could to prevent even greater harm, just like the chief had said. All of them – the whole of Section Nine really – were just the ambulance at the bottom of the cliff, fighting a disease in society that Kakashi wasn’t even sure _could_ be cured.

Yet again, he found himself treading down an all too familiar path, making the same tired old choices. Drugs or nightmares. Hangovers or insomnia. The same weaknesses and bad decisions he always fell back on, time and time again.

How proud Rin would be to see him now.

Her picture was still face-down on the dresser and Kakashi left it that way, rising and retreating to the bathroom for his morning ablutions instead. The face reflected in his mirror was haunted, nightmarish… flawless and unchanging. Lifeless, by all but technicality. If he were truly still human, there would have been bags beneath his eyes.

But of course… there weren’t.

Kakashi splashed water on his face, then popped a couple of painkillers in anticipation of the headache yet to come.

The skies were grey and overcast, and they opened up during Kakashi’s short commute to headquarters, leaving the city strangely quiet and subdued. He arrived, soaking wet, to a curt summons from about the last person in the world he felt like dealing with at the moment – Danzō.

The director of the CIS had spent the preceding few days “interviewing” all of the Section Nine team… if you could even call it that. His tactics were closer to interrogation, in as much as they involved isolating each team member and questioning them for hours on end, in the hope they would slip up and divulge something incriminating.

As of yet, no one had.

But Kakashi knew it had been Danzō’s dearest wish, ever since he took up the CIS director’s role, to shut Section Nine down for good. His own team, he argued, were far better suited to conduct the kind of counter-terrorism activities currently entrusted to Section Nine. The CIS were highly skilled and possessed the kind of discipline and oversight that the rag-tag group of ex-JGSDF soldiers at Section Nine lacked.

Oversight however, Chief Sarutobi argued, was exactly the problem. Too much, and it started to look a lot more like corruption. Independence, and the ability to investigate criminal activity free of the agenda of the upper echelons of government, was what was needed. So far, Parliament had agreed with him. 

Regardless, the atmosphere at headquarters was tense and uneasy with Danzō around. It made it difficult to truly dig into the warehouse theft when the whole team was forced to work with one eye forever cast behind their backs. However, there was one unexpected benefit to it all – namely that Danzō’s preoccupation with his own agenda seemed to have left him curiously short-sighted to the possibility that there could be anything going on right beneath his nose. Care still had to be taken, but so far, Danzō had proved to be far more interested in furthering his own interests than involving himself in the minutiae of Section Nine’s day to day operations.

Just one last interview to go – Kakashi’s – and he would finally be off their backs.

Two hours later, Kakashi was feeling decidedly less than charitable about it though. He’d already talked the Danzō through the events of Omotesandō more than once, and his patience was rapidly dwindling as the prospect of having to do it a third time loomed. The whole interview appeared to be nothing more than a gratuitous waste of his and his team’s time.

Shifting impatiently in his seat, he folded his arms as Danzō scowled across the table. Next to him, an unreasonably muscular assistant was taking notes, fingers flying across the keyboard as Danzō spoke. 

“So, Captain Hatake, you’ve said you feel certain your actions that day were justified?”

Kakashi did his best not to roll his eyes. How many times was he going to be subjected to variations of the same question?

“As I’ve said before, I did what I had to do.”

“I see,” Danzō murmured. 

“Do you?” Kakashi pressed on, unable to entirely hold his tongue. “Because from where I’m sitting, it seems like you’d be happier if a mall full of people were dead.”

Danzō’s one visible eyebrow shot up toward the bandages covering his forehead. “I can assure that is not the CIS’s desire. As I’ve already told you, I’m merely here at personal request of the prime minister… When a top secret organisation executes a mission so poorly that it brings them into the public spotlight, that’s of concern to us all.”

Kakashi bit back another sharp retort. It wouldn’t do to lose his cool now. The less he said, the sooner all this would be over. Even so, he couldn’t help the sarcasm that crept into his tone. “Of course.”

Danzō hummed like it didn’t escape him, consulting the notes on his screen for so long it made even Kakashi want to fidget. He had no reason to, with a body that suffered from none of the aches, pains or cramps that his human one had had. But if Danzō was trying to bore him into revealing something, or losing his patience altogether, it was very nearly working.

“Is there anything else you want to ask me director, or am I permitted to resume my duties?” Kakashi asked, polite but icy.

Danzō glanced up, as though surprised to hear him speaking out of turn. “Just one thing…” he said, sipping at a mug of tea with painful slowness and considering his notes again, before returning one unblinking eye to Kakashi. “How would you say your mental state is right now?”

Kakashi frowned, immediately on high alert. “Fine.”

Setting his tea down with a clunk, the beginnings of a unpleasant smile began to creep in around the edges of Danzō’s mouth. “I only ask because I couldn’t help but notice you were involved in a similar incident, nearly ten years ago…”

Kakashi’s stomach sank. Not _that_…

“The records indicate at that time, it was several months before you were assessed as fit to return to duty.”

“_That_,” Kakashi snapped, any pretence of cool dissipating instantly, “was completely different.”

“I don’t see how. The circumstances of both incidents are similar.”

“_She,_ was my _friend_.”

“Hm.” Danzō hummed, looking entirely indifferent. “Then it must be hard, knowing you let a friend die, only to still be making the same mistakes years later.”

Something dark and furious rose within Kakashi, writhing just beneath his skin. His hands curled into fists._ Don’t give in to it… _

Logically, he knew Danzō was intending to get a rise from him. Trying to taunt him into doing something that gave the CIS a reason to stand him down. But that didn’t make it any easier to resist. The bastard knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt… the only person to whom logic had never applied…

As gracefully as he could, considering the circumstances, Kakashi forced out through gritted teeth, “With all due respect director, that incident isn’t the one under investigation today.”

Danzō looked triumphant. He was winning and he knew it. “Perhaps not, but I challenge you to argue its irrelevance. It’s the prerogative of the government to—”

The door to the office opened, and the director scowled like he’d just seen a fly landing on his food. “Hiruzen,” he hissed.

Kakashi spun as the chief entered room, leaving the door very pointedly open in his wake.

“Danzō, this interview has gone on quite long enough, wouldn’t you agree?”

Expression darkening still further, Danzō clicked his tongue impatiently. “No, I wouldn’t. And need I remind you this investigation has been personally authorised by Prime Minister Senju himself, in the interests of—”

The chief waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes. I’m quite well aware of the interests of your mentor. However, my team all have work to do. Should you require any further information, please send the requests to me personally. In the meantime, I’m sure you’re both capable of showing yourselves out.”

Looking affronted, Danzō and his assistant stood and gathered their things. Before they left however, Danzō paused in the doorway. “I assure you, I will be informing the prime minister about this,” he threatened.

Making a noise that suggested at complete disinterest, Chief Sarutobi stood his ground. “Please do. Let him know he’s always welcome to visit in person, _if_ he’s willing to set foot outside of Fukuoka and the Okinawan beaches that is.”

Mouth turning down, Danzō swept out, finally leaving Kakashi and the chief alone.

“Thank you,” Kakashi said, genuinely grateful to have been spared from where the discussion had been heading.

Unsmiling, Chief Sarutobi turned back to him. His eyes were sharp, and it felt like their gaze was cutting right through Kakashi. “Kurenai needs to see you. She says she’s found something. A lead on the case.”

Nodding, Kakashi stood. It was lucky timing on the chief’s part that he’d arrived when he did. Any more talk of Rin, and Kakashi might have lost his cool entirely. For Danzō to insinuate—

“And Kakashi…” the chief added, almost as an afterthought.

The pause that followed seemed to stretch long past the point of comfort.

“Don’t let what Danzō was suggesting become a reality.”

A unsettled shiver ran through Kakashi. How could the chief know what Danzō had said, unless…

“You were listening.”

The chief’s poker face didn’t shift for a second. He pointed again down the hallway toward Kurenai’s office, indicating that it was time for Kakashi to leave. “It’s my job to be fully informed.”

What he meant by that though, Kakashi had no idea. The chief already knew his history… had done when he’d hired him. But as to how much he knew about the mess inside Kakashi’s head, was anyone’s guess. Far more than he let on, perhaps. But, equally, not enough to take Kakashi off the job either. Not yet, anyway…

Glad it didn’t seem to be up for further discussion, he took his leave, retreating down the corridor to find the rest of his team.

“So,” Kurenai began, tapping away on the keyboard at her station as the team gathered around her. “What I discovered was only possible because of Tenzō’s help, and the work he did cross-referencing the police databases for thefts similar to the one we’re looking at.” She smiled warmly at him, indicating that he should explain.

Tentatively, Tenzō cleared his throat. “It turns out there have been a number of other instances of theft over the last few months, where humanitarian deliveries for the refugees have gone missing. They weren’t reported to Section Nine because no one at the Police Department made the connection to Akatsuki.”

“Nice work, rookie!” Asuma enthused, thumping Tenzō on the back.

A line of frustration formed between Tenzō’s brows.

“What does that mean though?” Genma asked, smoothing down his hair before settling his baseball cap over it. “So it’s happened before… doesn’t get us any closer to figuring out who did it.”

Kurenai held up a finger, waggling it in reprimand. “That’s the thing though… it _does_.”

She brought up a vast list of numbers on screen. Several lines were highlighted and Kakashi leaned forward for a better look. They seemed to depict a list of—

“Transactions,” Kurenai explained, “from a government account. You can see the payments from Department of Refugee Affairs here.” She pointed to the larger list of numbers on the screen. “That much is simple. One payment, one delivery. But I figured if there’s dirty dealing going on, there has to be money changing hands somewhere. So I ran an algorithm across all transactions made on the nets on those days. It turned up a second, non-government account with a payment pattern that perfectly matches the days the shipments have gone missing. Someone is paying to make them disappear.”

Straightening, Kakashi hummed in interest. It still only proved what they already knew. To pursue the case further, they were going to need more. But, he also trusted Kurenai's judgement. She wouldn’t have called unless she had something worth his time. “I assume you haven’t been able to trace the owner of the account?” he asked.

Kurenai laughed, genuine amusement softening her features. “You know it they’d never make it that easy! I tried, but it’s protected by a military grade attack barrier.”

A snort emanated from Asuma’s direction. “As if that isn’t just as incriminating.”

Personally, Kakashi agreed. The use of advanced military technology did point to the involvement of someone with influence, high up in the government ranks. But without further details, it alone didn’t prove anything.

“You can’t just hack it?” Aoba asked, pushing his ever-present sunglasses further up his nose, despite the room’s near dark lighting. 

Kurenai pointed to a blonde-haired android, slumped lifelessly in the corner amongst other discarded net-related tech. “I’m not saying I _couldn’t_ get around it, given enough time… but it’s already fried one of the INO units.”

Aoba made a face, scrunching up his nose at the thick white fluid dripping from the android’s nose. “Ah… right.”

Effective, Kakashi thought, and typical of advanced attack barriers. To not only deactivate the android, but cripple it. Kurenai was lucky not to have been on the receiving end of the barrier herself.

“So anyway,” Kurenai continued, obviously not the least bit deterred by the experience. “I’ll keep working on it, but a more likely bet seems to be tracing where the money is going _to_. That account is also protected by safeguards, but they’re not nearly as robust as the payment source. Older technology.”

“What are you thinking?” Kakashi said. 

Eyes shining with anticipation, Kurenai turned her chair to face him. “We dive it. Together.”

Kakashi considered it. As a team, there was very little he and Kurenai couldn’t hack through. They’d proven as much before, and it was certainly a more sure bet than putting another INO on the task. The Infiltration Network Operative androids were well enough equipped for basic hacks and trawling through net data, but a specialist problem begged a specialist solution. He sank down on the chair next to Kurenai, already feeling out the ports at the back of his neck. “Sounds good to me.”

“Oh no...” Asuma stepped forward, folding his arms. “I am not pulling your asses out of the nets again when this all goes wrong.”

Kurenai smiled sweetly at him. “What happened to ‘there’s not an attack barrier in Japan she can’t hack’?”

Asuma opened his mouth, then closed it again. “It’s not _you_ I’m worried about…”

Kakashi glanced up. “I only dive as deep as I need to.” 

Lips turning down, Asuma looked highly unimpressed. “Oh yeah? Two words for you. Ghost. Hacking. Ring any bells?”

“That turned out fine.”

“The only reason you even got out was because I pulled the plug!”

“I got the information though.”

“And nearly died in the process. Might as well just stand on a live grenade. Actually, that would probably be less dangerous, for _you_.”

There was a chorus of snickering from the back of the room.

“And here I thought rangers were meant to be tough,” Raidō joked.

“Asuma the mother hen,” Genma said with a shrug, grinning.

Asuma shot them a dirty look and when they both shut up, turned his disapproving gaze back on Kakashi.

It wasn’t nearly as effective though. Kakashi just gave an indifferent shrug. In truth, he agreed with the others. Asuma _was_ overreacting. It was Section Nine’s job to put themselves at risk for the good of society, and if Kakashi died doing it, at least he would die an honourable death. There were worse ways to go.

“Koketsu ni hairazunba koji o ezu,” he said, quoting an old proverb. “If you don’t enter the tiger’s den, you can’t catch its cubs.”

Huffing with obvious disapproval, Asuma looked like he’d been hoping for more support, or perhaps for Kakashi to change his mind. But when his objection failed to elicit any response, his shoulders sank, as though he knew he could argue this all day and still lose. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

Kurenai grinned, grabbing a chunky semi-circular collar device which she settled around the back of her neck, plugging its cable into the terminal in front of her. “That’s the spirit! Okay, Asuma, Raidō, I want you both on backup. Take the terminals over by the far wall.”

Still quietly sulking, Asuma did as he was told and Raidō plugged in next to him. As the second and third most cyberized members of the team, they were the best suited to offer support, should anything go wrong. Kurenai gave Kakashi a thumbs up, which he returned, then she slipped a set of virtual reality goggles over her eyes.

Feeling again for the ports at the back of his neck, Kakashi popped one open and plugged the cable from his own terminal into it. Immediately, a visualisation of the nets appeared in place of his view of the real world. Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes.

The nets manifested as a vast, three-dimensional neural network. All around Kakashi, thousands of delicate neon threads spread in every direction as far as he could see, like highways that stretched on into eternity. Information flowed freely along them, collecting in cube-like data banks and passing through near transparent circular portals that shielded sensitive data from intrusion. Barriers, exactly like the sort he and Kurenai were about to hack.

Amidst this colourful luminescence, Kakashi floated, free and weightless.

It was a mesmerising, if inaccurate, depiction. In truth, the nets had long since grown too vast for any single human to perceive. The projection that Kakashi saw was merely a scaffold of sorts, one that allowed him to interact with the nets in a manner his limited human brain could cope with – tethered, as it was, to the ghost that inhabited the last of his corporeal form. The Tachikomas had no such limitations.

**“Are you ready?”** Kurenai asked, her softy glowing avatar appearing by his side.

It looked nothing like her. But Kakashi looked nothing like himself either. Only an idiot went onto the nets projecting their true self. Especially if they happened to be doing something clandestine or highly illegal. Like hacking protected bank account data. 

**“I’m good.”**

**“Then lets go.” **

Kurenai swept a hand out before her and the view shifted. Or maybe _they_ did – it was so instantaneous Kakashi couldn’t be sure which. Either way, before he knew it, they were flying through one of the many neon pathways toward their goal. It was beautiful, in a surreal kind of way. Glittering and delicate, and oh so tempting to reach out and touch as it flew by. A world of information – the entire culmination of human endeavour – at Kakashi’s fingertips. A place to escape from reality. Somewhere that, no matter how often he came, he never tired of.

**“Okay, here we are,” **Kurenai announced.** “Coming up on the first barrier in five, four, three…”**

They attacked it from both sides, quickly bypassing the security protocol and moving on to the next. That took slightly longer, and the one that followed, more again. 

**“Nothing yet?”** Asuma asked.

**“Nothing,”** Kakashi confirmed.

**“Damn.”**

Kurenai shot Kakashi a sideways look, obviously amused. **“Come on Asuma, you didn’t really expect it to be that easy, did you?”**

A bad-tempered grumble was the only response she got, and Kakashi’s lips quirked up involuntarily. They both knew how much Asuma hated hacking… The very opposite to both himself and Kurenai, who saw gates, barriers, and risking their cyberbrain integrity as an exciting challenge to overcome. 

**“This one… is being _difficult_,”** Kurenai complained, sifting through the code ringed about the edge of it and adding some of her own. **“Can you—”**

**“On it,”** Kakashi said, pre-empting her and injecting it with a Trojan attack virus. _This_ was why they worked well together. For a second nothing happened. Then slowly, the colour on the gate began to change, from blue to orange as the virus took over. Within moments, it had disintegrated completely, unblocking their path.

**“Thanks.” **Kurenai smiled at him as they plunged forward, diving deeper. **“There should only be the main barrier to go. The preliminary scan I did suggested it’s old tech, but tricky. The code is constantly shifting, and there’s a timer before it locks the whole thing down. It won’t be easy, but I’m sure we can handle it.”**

**“Are we expecting any other resistance?”**

Kuenai pursed her lips. **“There was no indication of that from the scans, but we should probably be prepared for it anyway.”**

They stopped in front of the barrier, and Kakashi gazed up at it. It was a huge, ugly thing, clearly meant to dissuade anyone from doing exactly what they were about to attempt.

**“Here goes nothing,”** Kurenai remarked, starting the attack.

Numbers flickered before Kakashi, counting up, counting down, changing. Together, he and Kurenai worked fast, in tandem, isolating and eliminating lines of code before the remaining time ticked down to zero. It was a pain in the ass, but still a hell of a lot easier than military grade barriers that actively fought back. Though Kami knew, he and Kurenai had taken on enough of them too.

As the last defence fell, Kurenai made a noise of satisfaction. **“That’s it. You can start the data upload Asuma.”**

The back of Kakashi’s neck tingled, like the energy in the air before an electrical storm. That seemed far too easy… **“Just a second Kur—”**

Kurenai passed through the gate, and the net construct around them turned blood-red. Her face fell.

_Shit. _

**“Hey, I’m getting some strange feedback here…”** Raidō reported.

**“Looks like a virus,”** Asuma confirmed. **“It’s uploading to our systems through the open channel.”**

**“Asuma, Raidō, firewall protocol, _now_,”** Kakashi instructed.

**“On it.”**

The data vault began to collapse around them and Kurenai cursed. **“Damn it. I _knew_ it was too easy to be true.”**

Her voice caught, skipping and repeating as the construct around them blurred, moving in ways no natural environment could.

**“Guys…”** Asuma’s voice warned, suddenly full of static. **“Our systems aren’t the only thing under attack right now. Get out of there.”**

Kurenai glance longingly into the vault.

**“Don’t,”** Kakashi warned.

She scowled, expression determined. **“You know as well as I do, the only way we’re getting the information now is if we pull it out ourselves.”**

Kakashi met her gaze, equally determined. **“I know. That’s why I’m going in to get it.”**

**“Then I’m going with you,”** she insisted.

He shook his head. **“I can’t let you do that. I’ve got barriers and defences you don’t.”**

There had to be _some_ advantages to having a near fully cyberized body.

**“Kakashi—"**

**“Asuma, pull Kurenai out.”**

**“Asuma, do _not_—"**

Kurenai’s avatar vanished. _Good._ Kakashi might never hear the end of it later, but risking his own safety was one thing, risking that of his team’s, quite another.

Alone amongst the crumbling databanks, Kakashi forced his increasingly less responsive body forward, searching for anything they might be able to use. The more he pushed, the faster the virus took over.

**“Fifty percent,”** Asuma warned.

**“Tell me you’ve got an antivirus for this thing,”** Kakashi said, feeling distinctly separate from his fingers as he watched them make contact with yet another data fragment. It vanished in a flash of light.

**“We’re analysing it now, but I doubt we can directly combat it given the speed it’s progressing. Just get your data and get out of there. Do _not_ make me pull your ass out again.”**

**“I’ll be fine.”**

**“Yeah, sure. Sixty percent. You’ve got about ten seconds before it reaches your ghost line.” **

Kakashi grasped for everything he could touch. Cubes vanished around him, like thousands of tiny shooting stars burning and flickering out. Oddly beautiful, if liable to become life-threatening in very short order. But, he knew his limits.

Just as his vision began to blur and dim, he jerked back to consciousness in his real body, yanking the cable from the back of his neck. Tenzō stared down at him, open-mouthed with alarm. Immediately, Asuma severed the connection. Copious bright red warnings and sirens around the room ceased.

“I can’t believe you kicked me out!” Kurenai complained. Her goggles lay discarded on the desk in front of her.

“I can’t believe you said that was going to be easy,” Asuma said, looking horrified. “Now I understand what happened to that poor INO earlier.”

Kurenai made a face, looking even less impressed with him than she was with Kakashi.

“Did we get anything though?” Raidō asked, as practical and focused as ever.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Kurenai parsed the data on screen. She frowned, typing in a few quick commands. Then, her eyes widened. “We did, and… oh it’s _good_. You guys are going to want to see this.”

The whole team crowded around her.

“Gatō.”

Kakashi made a noise of interest. “The Yakuza are involved?”

“It’s one of his corporate accounts, but I think it’s probably safe to assume they are, yes.”

“The Yakuza?” Tenzō asked, looking between them.

No one answered him.

“I ran a search under the company name and there’s an address. A distribution centre by the looks of it. Along the main railway line north, towards Saitama Prefecture.”

Kakashi snapped the port at the back of his neck closed. He stood up. “Then that’s where we’re going. And quickly, before they figure out they’ve been hacked.”

It was still raining as they drove through the city. A few minutes out from the target, both cars turned off the main highway, emerging from a long underground tunnel into an old industrial area. Heavy trucks passed by, and the few workers still out in the weather trudged along beneath concrete grey skies and incessant rain, their bland uniforms and helmets doing little to keep them dry.

**“It’s the next left,” **Kurenai directed. **“If you park near the beginning of the street, you should be able to sneak into the loading bay undetected.”**

Kakashi did as instructed, pulling up beside a vacant lot secured by a rusty chain link fence. Down the road, the distribution centre was visible, windows glowing softly in the gloomy weather. It was suspiciously nondescript, with no identifiable signage or markings to indicate either an owner or occupier, unlike most of the other multi-story buildings around it.

**“What are you thinking?”** Asuma asked, glancing at Kakashi. 

Kakashi frowned. There were a number of trucks parked outside the building, though no people were immediately obvious. Not overly surprising, given the weather.

**“You, me, and Tenzō will head for the loading bay and see if we can get a look inside. Genma, you take Raidō and Aoba, and see if there’s a way in from the other side. Use camouflage and try not to alert them to the fact we’re here. Tachikomas, you’re on backup. Stay out of sight unless I call for you.”**

**“Yessir!”**

Genma paused, one hand still on the other car as he eyed Kakashi seriously. **“What do you want us to do if things don’t go to plan?”**

Kakashi considered it. He still remembered the chief’s warning about investigating the government, and as much as it pained him to admit it, it _was_ sound advice. **“Withdraw. We can’t risk giving ourselves away.”**

**“Even if we think we have something?”**

Kakashi sighed. Genma knew him too well. Truth be told, none of the team were the type to let things go without a fight. It was the reason they were all here, doing the work they did.

Giving him a hard look, Kakashi spoke off record. “In that case, you’d better be _sure_.”

The other man grinned broadly, and Kakashi wondered if he might not come to regret his decision later.

They parted ways soon afterward, with Kakashi and his team edging cautiously down the loading bay, while Genma’s team continued to the far side of the building.

Moving in quick, quiet steps, Kakashi took care to avoid the puddles that spread out across the aging, cracked bitumen. Thermo-optic camouflage might disguise his body, but it couldn’t hide the splash created if he put his foot in one. Thankfully, Asuma and Tenzō seemed to be moving with equal caution. 

Together, they snuck past the line of trucks, parked with their backs to the building. They too were plain and nondescript, and when Kakashi took the risk of inching the doors of one open, he found it disappointingly empty. At first glance though, they did _look_ like the trucks from the security footage in Shinjuku.

**“Kurenai?”** Kakashi asked, uploading licence plate and registration details.

**“Got it. Standby…”**

Whoever had organised the theft had done a good job of covering their tracks so far, but it was always best to be thorough. There was a long pause in which Kakashi imagined Kurenai sitting in her comfortable dry office, tapping away at the terminal with neatly painted nails, while the rest of the team waited, uncomfortably cold and wet, out here in the field.

Of course, she’d laugh at him for thinking like that though. Cyber-intelligence was just as much as battlefield as any other, and Kurenai had served, just like the rest of them.

**“I’ve got at least one match,”** she confirmed. **“The truck at the far end.”**

**“Good work.”**

So… at least they were in the right place then, Kakashi thought. There _was_ a connection, even if the exact nature of it wasn’t clear yet.

**“Hey Kakashi…”**

Tenzō’s voice intruded his thoughts.

**“Yes?”**

**“I’ve got a view into the building through a partially open door by the southeastern corner. I think you guys are going to want to see it.”**

**“Okay, I’ll be there shortly. Asuma?”**

**“On my way.”**

A minute or so later, Kakashi nearly tripped over Tenzō, who was crouched by the partially open roller door leading into the distribution centre. Inside the warm and dry interior, shelves were stacked ceiling-high with pallets and boxes, all adorned by the unmistakeable logo of government aid. Uniformed employees scurried row to row with clipboards, while others drove forklifts, moving boxes from their neat stacks to waiting trucks on the far side of the space.

But far more concerning was—

**“Kakashi, we have guards on this side of the building. Black fatigues, bulletproof vests, prosthetics, assault rifles. The whole nine yards.”**

**“Copy that, Genma. We see them here too.”**

Something about it niggled at Kakashi. The Yakuza were never this blunt in their operations. They survived by blending in with the general population – laundering profits from their many illegal dealings through legitimate businesses, like Gatō’s Wave Corporation. With it, the Yakuza had a stake in probably half of New Tokyo’s gambling dens and nightclubs, as well as insurance, the construction industry, and supply logistics. There was no reason for them to expose themselves like this. 

Something definitely wasn’t right.

Apparently Asuma had come to the same conclusion. **“Those guys look military.”**

**“They have to be,”** Aoba chipped in. **“The guns they’re carrying… They’re Seburo C-30 rifles with an extended barrel and modified sights. Military issue only, and not just any part of the military – special forces.”**

**“Hey look! Quick-scope came in useful for once…”** Genma joked.

**“Oh shut up,”** Aoba grumbled.

**“Hang on…”** Tenzō said, sounding alarmed. **“I’m sure I recognise that guy closest to us. Wasn’t he just at headquarters earlier? With Danzō?”**

Kakashi squinted. His view of the man was side on, and partially obstructed by a stack of boxes. Regardless, he’d spent more than enough time in the interrogation room with Danzō to be able to identify more than a passing resemblance between this guy and the assistant who’d been taking notes. He _had_ seemed abnormally built for someone involved in office work…

**“Are you seeing this Kurenai?”** Kakashi asked.

**“Yeah… I’m running it now.”**

**“Well fuck me,”** Asuma exclaimed, and Kakashi didn’t need to see his expression to pick up on his surprise. **“The CIS is involved then?”**

**“Looks that way,”** Kurenai confirmed. **“Tenzō’s right. The guy closest to you is a match for the one who accompanied Danzō to the office. I’m checking the others too, but it looks like apart from their military service, their records are classified at the same level as ours. I can’t read them. That pretty much confirms high level government involvement.”**

**“Oh hell yeah!”** Genma exclaimed. **“Tell me we can go in and string these guys up now… I can’t wait to see the look on Danzō’s face when he tries to talk his way out of _this_ one.”**

As much as Kakashi shared Genma’s enthusiasm for seeing Danzō taken down, he wasn’t convinced that throwing themselves in, guns blazing, was actually going to get them the evidence they needed. The CIS wouldn’t go down easily, and there was every possibility they’d have a backup plan if their cover was blown. Like levelling the entire place with explosives or something else equally unhelpful. Danzō wasn’t one to leave himself exposed.

**“Not yet Genma. Kurenai, contact the Chief and ask him how he wants us to proceed. If we—”**

The sharp rat-a-tat of gunfire rang out and Kakashi spun, searching behind them. He and his team were camouflaged, there was no way anyone could be here for them—

**“Kakashi!”** Genma called. **“We’ve got multiple targets storming the building from the east! We’re stuck in the crossfire right now and we’re going to have to engage if we want to get out.”**

His voice was characteristically detached and professional, but Kakashi could hear the vicious report of gunfire from his side of the building and it worried him. There was enough to be at least a squad of people, if not more.

_Damn it_.

All or nothing then. Go in now, or risk losing the chance to collect the evidence they needed against the CIS altogether.

**“Do it,” **he instructed.** “Tachikomas, get in there and help them out too.”**

Immediately, high-pitched chatter erupted over the comms.

**“Do we have permission to use our guns?”** one of the units asked excitably. 

Kakashi sighed. If they were breaking cover anyway, they might as well do it properly. **“Yes, you can use your guns, if _necessary_.”**

The resulting delighted squeal made Kakashi wonder if he hadn’t just made the worst command decision _ever_ in his long history of bad command decisions. But there was no time to ponder it. He checked inside the warehouse again.

A number of uniformed workers seemed to have turned on the guards, producing weapons from Kami knew where, and transforming the place into a bloodbath. Other hostiles were still entering through the far doors of the warehouse, presumably the force Genma had described.

**“Who the hell are they?”** Asuma asked.

Kakashi shook his head, already reformulating his plan. **“Doesn’t matter.”** He brushed water from his increasingly limp hair, knowing, even as he did, that it wasn’t going to stop his outline from becoming visible in the worsening deluge. Even multi-million yen camouflage had its limits when it came to the environment. **“Hey Asuma… can you get this roller door the rest of the way up? Enough for us to get inside?”**

The amusement in Asuma’s voice was obvious. **“Are you actually asking me to use my muscles?”**

Kakashi made a face, even though he knew Asuma wouldn’t see it. **“Just answer the question.”**

**“Can a bird fly?”**

Kakashi snorted in amusement. Trust Asuma to try beating him at his own game, only to fail. **“Only some can, not all,”** he returned smoothly.

**“Fuck.”**

**“It’s okay, he only needs your muscles, not your brain,”** Genma snickered.

**“Shut up asshole,”** Asuma said acerbically.

**“All right, come on,” **Kakashi interrupted, trying to get them back on track.** “Now, here’s what we’re going to do…”**

A couple of minutes later – as Tenzō raced back to the car, and the sound of large calibre gunfire confirmed the Tachikomas were well on their way to extracting Genma and his team – Kakashi and Asuma stood beside the roller door, uncamouflaged, looking at each other. Gripping his pistol, Kakashi took a deep breath and tipped his head at Asuma. “Now.”

At his signal, Asuma gripped the door, biceps bulging as he forced it upwards against its mechanism. Kakashi ducked quickly beneath it, making a break for the man they’d recognised earlier.

He was crouched behind a row of shelves, attention focused entirely on the newcomers on the far side of the space.

Entering a firefight like this with only a pistol wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t exactly the situation Kakashi had been planning for when they left headquarters. In any case, his presence went largely unnoticed in the chaos – only a small target streaking amongst it, the smell of smoke and gunpowder assailing his senses. He reached the CIS man, tackling him to the ground before he had a chance to fight back. A quick scuffle and it was all over. Kakashi clipped the cuffs around the man’s wrists and, with difficulty, hefted his unconscious body over his shoulder.

It would’ve been a lot easier to have Asuma do this part, but Kakashi wasn’t willing to risk both of them coming in here.

Focused and calm, he scanned back towards the roller door. Funny really, how he was always at his most level-headed in situations like this, when the entire world was going to shit around him. But give him a quiet moment of contemplation, and the silence quickly turned deafening…

In any case, the way back looked clear. Staggering across the space, he tried to stick to the cover of the shelves as much as possible. Along the way, an explosion shook the building from the outside, sending a shower of pale dust floating down over him. Either the Tachikomas were having far too much fun… or the situation was deteriorating.

**“Genma, are you guys out yet?” **Kakashi asked, tightening his grip on his captive and picking up the pace.

**“Affirm, and uh… remind me never to get on the bad side of a Tachikoma.”**

**“We used our grenade launchers!”** one of the units enthused.

Kakashi cringed. They’d better get the information they needed from this, otherwise he was never going to dig himself out from beneath the mountain of paperwork this mission was going to generate.

He lurched through the door to the loading area, welcoming the gust of cool wind that wrapped around him.

“Huh, that body’s stronger than it looks,” Asuma remarked, a shit-eating grin on his face as he looked Kakashi up and down.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, dropping his human baggage on the ground with a thud. “He’s all yours.”

A car squealed to a halt in from of them, with Tenzō behind the wheel. Moving quickly, Asuma threw their captive into the back seat and climbed in after him.

Already halfway into the passenger’s seat, Kakashi paused, eyes involuntarily drawn to the roof of the building opposite. A fork of lightning sizzled across the sky and there, silhouetted against it, stood three hooded figures, presiding over the carnage at their feet. Their coats were black and red, in the pattern of….

Kakashi drew in a sharp breath. Surely not. It _couldn’t_ be… could it?

“What are you doing Kakashi? Get in!” Asuma yelled.

Shaking the thought from his head, Kakashi slid into passenger’s side, managing to get his seatbelt on just in time for Tenzō to send them screeching down the road. His driving was _almost_ crazy enough to be impressive.

“I didn’t know you could drive like this,” Kakashi remarked mildly.

Tenzō looked at him like he was mad, wild-eyed as another yet explosion sent a plume of smoke high into the air and half the building collapsed behind them. Kakashi watched it in the rear-view mirror with mild interest. It was lucky that he’d got out when he did.

“I can when people are shooting at me!”

“So?” Genma asked, looking expectant as Kakashi exited the interview room several hours later. The rest of the team clustered round him, varying degrees of hope plain on their faces.

Kakashi nodded. “We have the evidence we need to implicate the CIS. Apparently they’ve been paying the Yakuza for supplies delivered by Wave Company to go ‘missing,’ then overseeing disposal of the evidence. The chief has called in Danzō to answer for it tomorrow.”

At that, Asuma punched the air, Genma and Aoba high-fived, and even Tenzō managed to look moderately pleased.

“Don’t celebrate too soon,” Kakashi cautioned them. “It’s not like he hasn’t got out of less before.”

Enough friends in high places and you could get out of just about anything... and Danzō not only had friends in high places, but friends in the _right_ places. 

“Oh come on… celebration dinner?” Asuma entreated, eyes straying to Kurenai in a hopeful way that utterly betrayed him.

She shook her head, a hint of a smile playing about her lips in a way that suggested she didn’t really mind. “Think I’ll pass. Until we know for sure we’ve got him anyway.”

Asuma smiled like that was still more than he’d been hoping for.

The next morning, Danzō sat confidently, owning the small space of the interview room like it was Kakashi being questioned, not him. After more than an hour of dead-ends and misdirection, the chief had left the room briefly to take a phone call, leaving Kakashi to try and make further progress on his own.

But trying to get anything useful out of Danzō was proving to be about as easy as Kakashi trying to catch eels with his bare hands. Danzō was a politician through and through, and the slime practically dripped off his every word.

“So,” Kakashi mused, doubting he was going to learn anything new in this attempt either. “You expect me to believe your agents acted of their own volition and you knew _nothing_ about it?”

With a shrug, Danzō eyed him smugly. “I can’t be responsible for the actions of a rogue few.”

“But they’re _your_ team. So what you’re telling me, is that you don’t have sufficient oversight of your subordinates’ actions to prevent this kind of behaviour occurring again?”

At that, Danzō looked almost bored. His voice was utterly composed and even as he replied, “I assure you, I have the necessary control over my team. The people responsible for this case went out of their way to conceal their actions from me, and you have my word they will be held to account for it.”

“But you can’t prove you _weren’t_ involved,” Kakashi insisted.

Danzō’s eyes narrowed. “I suggest you consider carefully what evidence you possess before you throw around unfortunate and baseless accusations like that, _Captain_.”

Forced to acknowledge that he might have a point, Kakashi bit his tongue. Technically there was nothing tying Danzō to the actions of his subordinates, but it was the same kind of technicality that saw the police consistently overlooking the Yakuza involvement in gambling. Danzō _was_ implicit somehow… Kakashi knew it. He just couldn’t _prove_ it. And it seemed like all attempts to trap him into revealing as much were proving hopeless.

Without warning, the door to the room re-opened and Chief Sarutobi entered, flanked by a couple of CIS agents. His lips were pulled thin at the edges, eyes cold as he fixed them on Danzō. “This interview is concluded. I believe you’re free to go.”

Danzō made no effort to conceal the smirk on his face. “Why, thank you, Hiruzen. I’m glad to see common sense and justice still prevail at the end of the day.”

The chief watched him implacably. “Actually, I believe there’s a friend you should be thanking for this privilege. In future though, I sincerely hope your agents will take more care and consideration in their actions.”

“Oh, I’m sure they will, but…” Danzō's voice trailed off, condescending and deadly. At the door he paused, looking back at the Chief and Kakashi with an ugly twist to his mouth. “It’s such a pity for the money of Japan’s hard-working citizens to be spent on people who are willing to kill and steal what doesn’t belong to them.”

Kakashi bristled, fists tightening at his sides. As if Danzō had _any_ idea how the majority of normal people lived, let alone the refugees… But without evidence, there was nothing more Kakashi or the chief could say or do. This time, just like every other, Danzō would walk free.

After he’d left, Kakashi turned to the chief. “Who was it? The friend who got him off this time?”

The chief’s expression remained unreadable. “The prime minister.”

Kakashi made a noise of frustration. There had been no choice then. The corruption of the state ran every bit as deep as they suspected, and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it.

“So… we lose again.”

“No, not lose,” Chief Sarutobi corrected, still appearing quietly thoughtful. “The investigation into Section Nine has been dropped, and something tells me we won’t have any more missing supply shipments. We’ve bought ourselves time.”

“But we’re no closer to finding Akatsuki.”

Understated determination settled onto the chief’s face. “Patience. One thing at a time, Kakashi... Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and meet with Orochimaru about the Tachikomas’ ongoing development. He’s interested learning how they’re adapting to their new role.”

Kakashi nodded. The Tachikomas were experimental and subject to ongoing review, and if there was one thing he knew about Orochimaru, it was that you didn’t keep him waiting where one of his projects was concerned.

“And Kakashi…”

Jarred out of his thoughts, Kakashi glanced up, finding the chief’s eyes on him once more.

“I suspect we’ll have more to do with the refugees in this investigation yet. We should value friends when we find them, wouldn’t you say?”

Kakashi frowned. Friends…

_Oh. _

The apartment was a tiny and cramped living space for five people, but Shisui’s face lit up when he saw who his visitor was.

“Kakashi! Please come in. Would you like some tea?”

Barely through the door, Kakashi was set upon by a boisterous young child who slid to a stop in front of him, hands on his hips, pouting spectacularly. “Who is he nii-san?” the boy demanded. “He’s not a refugee… I don’t trust him.”

An older boy, about Shisui’s age, but sharing the same delicate features and high cheekbones as the child, raised one eyebrow in warning. “Sasuke, what have I told you about making assumptions about people?”

The child rolled his eyes and parroted in a sing-song voice, “That I shouldn’t do it before I get to know them because I might be wrong.”

“Exactly.” The older boy patted the chair next to him, and Sasuke climbed onto it, fiddling with a cup of tea Shisui set down in front of him. “Shisui says Kakashi is here to help, and you trust Shisui, don’t you?”

Sasuke made a face. “Yes…”

Setting down three more cups on the table, Shisui grinned and ruffled Sasuke’s hair affectionately. “’Course he does!”

“Ungh, Shisui, don’t do that!” Sasuke complained, trying to smooth his hair back down. It remained obstinately stuck up at the back.

With a soft smile toward Shisui, the older boy respectfully inclined his head at Kakashi. “Uchiha Itachi. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Shisui told me about your investigation. I’m glad he could help.”

Shisui grinned enthusiastically and squeezed into his own seat beside the wall. “This is the friend I told you about Kakashi!”

Kakashi gave Itachi a cautious half-smile. “Pleased to meet you too Itachi. Shisui speaks very highly of you.”

With a gently reprimanding look Shisui’s way, Itachi brushed the bangs out of his eyes with elegant, long fingers. “He exaggerates of course.”

“I do not!”

“You’re a big old liar Shisui-nii!” Sasuke said, poking his tongue out.

With a melodramatic sigh, Shisui slumped on the table, “Not you too Sasuke…”

In their company, Kakashi quickly lost track of time. It wasn’t hard. Itachi was quiet but well-spoken, with exactly the same kind of idealism that Kakashi had recognised in Shisui, albeit tempered with a healthy dose of reality. He and his parents had fled the conflict in Asia for a better life nearly a decade ago, eventually settling in New Tokyo where they’d found work. Shisui’s story was similar – an orphan who’d been all but adopted into Itachi’s family after he’d lost his own before arriving in Japan. And Sasuke had been born in New Tokyo, a citizen of nowhere, with even fewer rights than the refugees who’d come before him.

As the discussion turned to current affairs, and Sasuke amused himself playing with a stuffed dinosaur in the corner of the room, Kakashi began to understand a little of what Shisui saw in Itachi. He really did have the makings of a great leader – principled in belief, measured in action, and with a strong sense of compassion for others. The government would have been better for having people like him in it. Which, unfortunately, was also why his chances of ever actually getting there were close to zero. People like Danzō would see to that. 

“I do worry about the impact Akatsuki will have on the refugees,” Itachi mused, brows knitting together tightly as he watched Sasuke play. “I understand why people want change now, but isn’t it better to do things the right way, not the easy way?”

“You don’t agree with Akatsuki’s goals then?” Kakashi asked.

Itachi shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t agree. How could I not? Of course I want Sasuke to have access to opportunities I don’t. To be able to aspire to better future than our parents. But… how can we ask people to listen to us if we haven’t first earnt their respect? If all we do is fight and make trouble, then all we invite is the same. I truly believe that if we want to achieve change, we have to work from within the system to do it.”

Shisui looked at Kakashi, smiling. “See?”

Unable to help it, Kakashi found the corners of his lips curving upward. It was a ridiculously unrealistic dream. One he hadn’t heard uttered out loud in many, many years. But Itachi bore it well. Like he truly, honestly, believed in it, with the kind of quiet conviction that was impossible to deny. “Yeah… I do.”

He left with a promise to return if there was anything else Shisui or Itachi could do to help.

After excusing himself from attending yet another team dinner, Kakashi boarded a crowded subway train. All too easily, amongst the crush of humanity, he found his mind wandering.

Who were the three shadowy figures he’d seen at the distribution centre yesterday? Could they really have been Akatsuki? The leaders he’d heard mentioned in the deepest darkest corners of net chatrooms, come out of hiding to seek vengeance on anyone who would dare to steal from the refugees?

Deva, Samsara, and Angel.

Their names were whispered by their supporters like a promise of better things to come. But despite Kakashi and his team’s best efforts, so far they’d been unable to confirm whether the leaders were even real, or merely fabricated figureheads for the cause.

If they _were_ real, they covered their tracks impossibly well.

Jostled out onto the platform at Shibuya, Kakashi made his way to the hospital. At the front desk he greeted Shizune, then headed for Gai’s room, passing by a lounge of vacant-eyed patients attended by nurses who were doing their best to spoon-feed them dinner. A man with wide, dead eyes stared at Kakashi, mashed vegetable dribbling down his chin.

Kakashi looked away. The hospital was a truly depressing place…

Gai answered his door as enthusiastically as ever though.

“Eternal rival!”

These meetings… it was like the line between reality and Kakashi’s nightmares began to blur, until they seeped and bled into each other like an old wound that had never quite healed…

Another hug. Another cup of tea. Another evening whiling away the rest of eternity in the same old predictable dance…

“So, my youthful friend! Tell me, have you seen Minato recently? How’s he doing?”

Kakashi clasped his fingers around his cup, too tight, sipping at it to distract himself. The lie came to him automatically, easily. “He’s well. He sends his regards of course.”

“Ah, it really has been too long. Do you still remember the time we all…”

Another hour. Another conversation. The same tired old stories, of a time long past…

Afterwards, Kakashi found himself wandering the streets aimlessly. Everything was damp, the lights of the city reflected in a thin sheen of moisture that coated the roads and footpaths, like some kind of parallel universe laid bare at his feet. As though, with one wrong step, Kakashi could fall out of this life and into another plane of existence. Something better, perhaps. Or… just another kind of hell.

Drawn further and further from the bustle of Shibuya, he found his footsteps leading him toward the dark heart of New Tokyo.

A couple of blocks away, he passed a florist’s, still open, even at this late hour. On a whim, he purchased a bouquet – white and yellow chrysanthemums – and several sticks of incense, before continuing on to an empty, unlit street, lined with cherry trees and surrounded by an eerie, all-encompassing silence. It was still too early for the majority of the blossoms to be out – the few that dared to try were quickly stripped from the boughs by the last of winter’s bite, lying dead and discarded on the ground.

Kakashi made his way between the graves, footsteps tracing a familiar path. Through memorials overgrown with weeds, to those overflowing with tokens from friends and family until, finally, he came to a stop in front of a tidy, modest grave. A single fresh bouquet of flowers rested in the vase at its alter.

His chest ached to see them. 

Carefully, he added his own bouquet, placing the incense sticks in a holder beside it, then lighting them and stepping back. Smoke curled upward, lifting on an imperceptible breeze. The scent of sandalwood lingered on his sensitive senses, sweet and musky.

He stood for several minutes, silent and unmoving. When most people came to visit graves, they prayed. Told the dead stories. Spoke of their experiences, achievements, or the life they’d lived in the person’s absence. But Kakashi had neither stories, nor any belief left in gods of any kind. If they existed, it was clear they’d deserted him some time ago.

He took a deep breath, sinking his hands into his pockets and struggling to find the right words.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long since I last came to visit… I know I’m not doing a very good job of living up to the legacy you gave me.”

An aeroplane passed high overhead, its dull thrum unnaturally loud in the stillness, and Kakashi fought the urge to just turn around and leave. Fought the awful weight of sorrow welling up inside of him, like a river's turbulent waters after snowmelt.

“It should’ve been me in here, not you… you know that? You had so much to live for… and you would’ve known exactly what to do. How to fix things.”

Something hot and wet ran down one of his cheeks and he swiped at it angrily. Maybe there was still too much humanity left in his body after all. Perhaps he’d ask to have it changed at his next check-up.

Another tear ran down his other cheek. Or, maybe not…

“I met some refugee kids today. They reminded me a lot of you, still so full of dreams, and wanting to change the world. Seeing it like the rest of us can’t anymore… It made me think of what you used to say, about the next generation being the future. That maybe there’s still hope for this country, so long as we have people like them. And if that’s true, then… I suppose my job is to make sure they get the chance.”

He lingered, feeling like he should have had more to say, more to atone for… but somehow unable to find it beneath the constricting tightness in his chest. The incense burnt out, its small smudge of warmth and light fading to ash and emptiness, and Kakashi placed his palm over the cool, rough granite of the grave, an uncomfortable lump in his throat. 

“I promise I’ll come back sooner next time,” he choked out, fingers tightening into a fist. “I’m sorry…”

Tiny circles of moisture fell in damp highlights on the stone, then splashed across the back of his neck. With a soft whisper, another rain shower set in around him, dulling the city noise to little more than a background hum. Lifting his face to the weather, Kakashi it slide down his cheeks, cool mixing with warm, until both were washed away.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped back from the grave, slowly retracing his steps.

“Bye, Minato.”

Outside the apartment window, Shibuya glowed like a neon rainbow. The vial in Kakashi’s hand shone softly, reflecting the city lights back at him. A temptation. A promise.

One day he would be strong enough not to do this. Someday…

He snapped the vial into place at the back of his neck and pushed down.


	4. A Bluer Sky (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi enjoys a night out on the town and discovers a new vice. Only, this one has a name... Obito.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been following along with this story and patiently putting up with my complete lack of a writing schedule! Sorry it's been so long since the last update, but writing this chapter was literally hell (never mind what's been going on in the real world). Anyway, here's Chapter 4, finally introducing Obito as promised! 
> 
> Also: TW for some one sentence, implied, historic self-harm in this chapter. It's in the paragraph after "This false body of his was flawless, youthful, unchanging…" if you want to skip it.

He dreamed in a drug-induced haze; of the war on the Peninsula, and of Rin and the day she died. Of despair, self-loathing, and waking in a body that wasn’t his and understanding what it truly meant to be alone. Of warmth and acceptance, love and colour bleeding slowly back into a monochrome world, only to have it all torn away again…

Kakashi opened his eyes. An unwelcome shaft of sunlight slid across his pillow, worsening the already sharp headache building behind his temples. He groaned.

Rolling sluggishly out of bed, he fed the dogs, swallowed some painkillers and took a shower.

Another morning, the same as every other. A face in the mirror entirely at odds with how he really felt. If he were truly still human, the nauseous come-down from the drugs should have had him throwing up. The guilt and nightmares eating away at him should have been plain for anyone to see. He should have looked on the outside every bit as terrible as he felt on the inside.

But of course he didn’t. He never did. He never would.

This false body of his was flawless, youthful, unchanging…

Almost mistakeable for the real thing, except for what Kakashi knew to be true. Thoughtfully, he slid his fingers down his forearm, tracing out the almost indistinguishable lines of service and maintenance panels across its surface. Following the cords of manufactured tendon and muscle that lay beneath a layer of false skin. He was steel, titanium, and carbon fibre at heart, manipulated by a cyberbrain barely recognisable as his own anymore. If he cut his body, it wouldn’t bleed red. Wouldn’t bleed out. That much, he knew from experience… and Orochimaru had been less than pleased at fixing the result.

Only tiny traces of organic tissue remained – a few meagre scraps of brain and spinal column. Nothing Kakashi could see, touch, or feel. Which begged the question… what part of him was truly human anymore? How was he supposed to know that he truly existed… had _ever_ existed? That it was actually _his_ ghost inside this shell?

His feelings? They could be programmed...

Memories? They could be manipulated… 

No… when you really came down to it, there was no proof that anything separated him from the Tachikomas, or the androids available for sale or rent by the hour on every street corner. 

Sombre grey eyes stared back at him, reflected in glass, and Kakashi sighed, brushing the hair off his forehead to reveal his scar. His fingers lingered on it. He could have had literally any body he wanted, yet he’d chosen to keep this one, even after everything…

Maybe it was all just part of the lie he’d sold to himself… that he still had something left to believe in. 

Or… maybe being fallible and imperfect was exactly what made you human.

In the doorway, Ūhei whined, fixing Kakashi with big, hopeful eyes.

“Alright boy,” Kakashi murmured, tearing himself away from his existentialism and grabbing several leashes from a hook by the door. “Let’s go for a walk.”

It was a beautiful spring day in Yoyogi Park. The air still had a chill to it, but the early blossoms were out, transforming the harsh winter landscape into a subtle sea of pink. Another week or so and they’d be at their peak, then the annual celebrations would begin. For now though, the park was quiet. Kakashi ambled through it, letting Shiba and Ūhei lead, while Bull and Pakkun lagged behind, same as always.

They passed other people out enjoying the sunshine, exercising pets and using the park’s space for the kinds of hobbies that weren’t possible in tiny inner-city apartments. A giant rabbit hopped around a temporary enclosure while nearby, two people sparred with plastic swords. A group dressed in cosplay posed for photos by the lake.

Despite the beauty of the day, Kakashi couldn’t enjoy it.

How many more people would die because he wasn’t good enough to save them? Wasn’t fast enough, resourceful enough or prepared enough?

The worst part of it was, he hadn’t even disagreed with Zabuza’s sentiments at Omotesandō. Only his methods. Because if the Veteran’s Pension Adjustment Bill passed, Gai would lose his apartment and the meagre life he’d cobbled back together since the war. Where was the justice in that? Yet still, Kakashi had betrayed his own morals and beliefs, simply because his job demanded it.

He gripped the leashes tightly, eyes drawn up to the blue of the sky, soft and washed out, like a watercolour painting. It was always so hazy in New Tokyo, the sky forever obscured by the smog of the city.

Was this all his life was ever fated to be? Just an endless parade of the same mistakes, losses, and compromises until there was nothing more left to lose? If so, he must deserve no less…

The rest of the day passed like a vacant dream. He’d probably overdone it again last night, all things considered. But it wasn’t the first time and it was unlikely to be the last. Feeling the way he did – as though his life was stationary, anchored in place, while he watched the rest of the world move on around him – was familiar and comforting in its own strange way.

It was often like this, as he came down off the drugs. They were just a band-aid, a temporary solution to allow him to escape reality when he needed to get outside his own head. A short-lived and brilliant rush, like fireworks in the night sky, that left the world a darker place in its absence. Just like Rin…

Truth was, Kakashi had tried a lot of things after he was first cyberized. But as it turned out, government issue military grade hardware was surprisingly, disappointingly, indestructible. Alcohol didn’t affect him the same way it did normal humans, because for that, you needed blood. A system that didn’t filter it out in minutes, not hours. Drugs were the same.

Some days it felt like he’d lost everything. Every tiny sensation normal people took for granted – the growl of hunger in their stomach, the myriad of infinitesimal pains and itches that plagued them. The constant of a heartbeat and the thrum of blood through their veins. Discomfort from heat or cold. Sweat from exertion. None of it was real to Kakashi anymore. The only thing that made him feel remotely human was the drug he’d stumbled across during the course of his work, one tailored specifically for cyborgs.

A decade of… _this_. And for what, if he couldn’t save the people he loved?

It should have been Minato who came home, not him.

He tried to settle in for the night, staring absentmindedly out the window at the glow of the city and wishing for a something to take his mind off things. Of course, it didn’t work. Weekends were the worst. Too much spare time to think… To get lost in the dark spaces of his head.

What he needed now was a distraction. Drugs maybe. Or…

Grabbing a long black coat from the wardrobe near his bed, Kakashi programmed the building’s android caretaker to see to the dogs’ needs for the night and took the elevator down to street level.

No… tonight he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to feel human again, if only for a little while.

The streets of Shibuya were bustling, packed with the party crowd out for a good time. Glitzy bars and nightclubs lined the block, projecting thumping music that seemed to penetrate the very ground beneath Kakashi’s feet. Just up ahead, a group of heavily tattooed youths in leather jackets lurched out into the road, causing cars to swerve amid a cacophony of angry beeping. Holographic advertisements flickered to life as Kakashi passed them by, promising him clear skin, the latest in fashionable clothing, or any number of body modifications. From a street corner, a bald female android blew kisses, bending forward to expose her busty cleavage.

Kakashi looked away. This wasn’t his scene. Too flashy, noisy and impersonal.

Tonight, he had other ideas.

Two train stops later he disembarked in Shinjuku, pounding the pavement past towering skyscrapers, eerily silent at this hour, to the narrow alleyways of the Golden Gai neighbourhood. A collection of ramshackle buildings balanced precariously between the edge of the Refugee District and the red-light area of Kabukichō, in Golden Gai the city became a lively blend of cultures. Traditional wooden shopfronts were just as likely to sport paper lanterns and noren as flashy neon signs. Yakitori was served alongside bibimbap, and pho, and other more exotic street foods from the continent. Refugees and citizens mixed like nowhere else in New Tokyo. 

It was still busy, but with an entirely different energy to the manic bustle of Shibuya. People moved with less urgency, meandering to favourite spots and greeting shopkeepers like old friends as they settled in for the evening at bars barely big enough to fit more than a handful of customers. 

Kakashi made his way to a typically cramped hole-in-the-wall establishment, pushing through cream coloured entrance curtains adorned with the name “Ichiraku” to take up a seat at the bar. From behind a stove, a cheerful older man with silvering hair glanced up, expression morphing into a smile.

“Kakashi!” he exclaimed with enthusiasm, “How have you been? Just the usual?”

“I’m well, Teuchi. And yes, just the usual thanks.”

At the far end of the counter, a young woman with uneven brunette bangs spun on her heels. “Kakashi?” she asked, a light dusting of pink creeping across her features. “I didn’t think we’d be seeing you tonight! Hold on, I’ll just get you your drink…”

She rushed to his end of the bar and removed a small green bottle from the fridge, setting it and a glass down in front of him. As she moved, she babbled a rushed string of words that sounded a lot like, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Kakashi cleared his throat, a little overwhelmed. “I’m uh, fine Ayame…” He twisted the cap off the bottle and poured the contents into his glass, trying to word a reply that sounded appropriately polite without sending the wrong message. “Thanks…”

From the kitchen, Teuchi prodded Ayame in the back with a ladle. “Give the poor man some space, hm? Take out these orders before they get cold.”

He passed a couple of bowls of steaming ramen through the gap from the kitchen and Ayame huffed indignantly, looking like she was tempted to wrest the ladle from his grasp and turn it back on him. Regardless, she did as she was told, squeezing past the other patrons to reach a small collection of seats crammed into the very back of the bar.

“She’s a firebrand, my daughter,” Teuchi remarked, throwing something down on the grill that spat and sizzled. “But don’t let her get to you.”

Delicately, Kakashi peeled down his mask and sipped at his drink. “She’s fine.”

In truth, any other man would probably have been glad to have her attention. Flattered, even if they weren’t interested. But she wasn’t Kakashi’s type. Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure he _had_ a type anymore. Chasing after the more hedonistic aspects of life seemed like a waste of time. Plus, a woman like Ayame deserved more than someone like Kakashi had to give her, even if she didn’t realise it yet.

“How’s business been?” Kakashi asked, turning his glass between his fingers. The thick liquid it contained left pale lines of residue across its interior surface. Not exactly appetising, but then, necessities rarely were.

Teuchi shrugged. “Oh you know, same as ever. A few more fights recently, with the trouble in the Refugee District and all. But we manage.” He flipped a small fish on the grill, letting it sizzle until the skin was crispy, then placing it expertly onto a plate with a small scoop of rice. Wandering out to the counter, he set it down in front of Kakashi.

“Thanks Teuchi.”

Kakashi slid him a paper note that more than covered his bill. It was only fair. After all, Teuchi and Ayame went out of their way to cater to his very specific tastes. It wasn’t like they had to.

Teuchi rung up the order and pushed Kakashi’s change back across the bar at him, waving off Ayame when she looked like she might be threatening to loiter again. “Don’t mention it.”

Kakashi hummed his thanks, making a mental note to forget his change. He ate in silence, grateful for the noise and bustle around him. As much as he preferred his own company, sometimes it was still nice to be surrounded by people like this. It made him feel grounded – like he was still connected to something – even if they were just engaged in their own conversations.

He chewed a mouthful of hot flaky fish, savouring the bitter flavour. Grilled saury was an acquired taste, detested by most people, but Kakashi loved it. He hadn’t used to… back before his prosthetic conversion. But something about the nuances of cyberization had changed all that. It wasn’t unusual. Most people with conversions as complete as Kakashi’s found their food preferences changed, almost as though their brains hadn’t quite caught up with the state of their bodies yet. Taste buds, unlike certain other bodily functions, had proven hard for scientists to replicate.

Technically, Kakashi didn’t _need_ to eat at all. Any nutrients his remaining human cells required would be provided by the bland soupy cocktail currently in his glass. But every so often he liked to eat something real, just to remind himself what it had been like.

Swallowing another mouthful of crispy skin, he found himself overcome by the feeling of being watched. It was hard to explain… less a physical reaction than a sixth sense that set his skin crawling. Perception honed through years of experience.

Subtly, he glanced around the room, searching for its source. Found it too – in the far corner of the bar. A man seated in the shadows, his intense gaze fixed on Kakashi.

Something hot shivered down Kakashi’s spine.

The man was dark-haired and wearing a plain black leather jacket over nondescript casual clothing. He possessed a kind of mysterious, devil-may-care attitude that suggested deception. Even so, he still would have been entirely unremarkable, if not for his face…

Kakashi sucked in a sharp breath. One side of it was smooth and perfect – a textbook study in good looks. The other was marred with scar tissue that spiralled delicately outward in great whorls, painting a patchwork play of light and shadow across his skin.

It was… horrific. Beautiful. Impossible _not_ to look at. Something imperfect in a perfect world.

The man’s eyes traced the turn of Kakashi’s head, the edges of his lips twitching up at the attention.

Kakashi looked away. Then – because he was weak – back again. Whatever kind of trouble this guy wanted, Kakashi was starting to think maybe he wanted it too. 

The man’s mouth curved up even further. He _knew_.

There was one line of scar tissue that stood out more than the rest, a pale slash bisecting the man’s lower lip and carving a straight track down his chin, like a vein of silver through rock. Kakashi couldn’t help but stare at it. He wondered what it would feel like to touch…

_Damn it._ Gripping his chopsticks tighter, he glared down at his food. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. He wasn’t here for _that_ kind of company, no matter how nice it might look…

Trust his luck though. 

A shadow materialised quietly by his elbow, sliding into the seat next to him and clearing its throat in a way that demanded attention.

Kakashi grimaced. 

“Hi,” the man said, leaning nonchalantly against the bar. The smile he wore looked about as far from innocent as humanly possible.

“Hi,” Kakashi replied, trying not to stare and failing. Up close, this guy was even prettier than he’d looked. It was very distracting.

The man nodded down at Kakashi’s plate. “Grilled saury,” he remarked, nose wrinkling.

Pulled from his reverie, Kakashi frowned. What was that supposed to mean? “I like it,” he said, quietly defiant. Though why he felt the sudden need to justify his food choices to a stranger, he had no idea.

Nodding slowly, the man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He removed one, rolling it skilfully between his fingers before lighting it, smiling a little deviously. “Well, there’s no accounting for bad taste.”

Kakashi screwed up his nose at the smell. Cyber-enhanced senses definitely had their downsides. Something his mask usually helped with. ‘Smoking kills you know,’ he said, deliberately snippy. 

“Oh I know,” the man said, looking entirely unconcerned. He took a long drag, blowing smoke out into the air between them. “But you presume I have something worth living for.”

Kakashi’s stomach knotted up. He stared into soulful dark eyes. “Don’t you?” he whispered, wishing he didn’t sound as curious as he was. Wishing the sentiment didn’t hit quite so close to home.

“That depends,” the man said.

“On what?”

He grinned the kind of grin that made Kakashi’s insides feel strange. The kind that could only mean trouble. “On whether you’ll let me buy you another drink.”

Kakashi groaned, seriously considering bashing his head against the bar. Or maybe, the other guy’s, for having said that. He couldn’t decide. Was he really going to let himself fall for a pick up line that terrible?

“Why would I do that?’ he asked, trying to sound like he wasn't jumping at the prospect. 

Tapping his cigarette into an ashtray, the man shrugged. “Because you look like you’ve had a shitty day and could use the distraction. I can relate.”

Kakashi breathed out slowly. Was it really that obvious? Most people found him hard to read. But this man… “You really know how to charm a guy, don’t you?” he said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

The man slipped off his chair and into Kakashi’s personal space, lips tugging up again. “Seems to be working for me.”

His voice was deep and resonant with just a hint of grating rasp to keep it interesting. Up this close Kakashi felt strangely restless, as though his every sense was attuned to the other man’s presence, like a taut string ready to be plucked. “What gives you that impression?”

“You haven’t taken your eyes off me since I came over here.”

Kakashi cursed under his breath. Why did he have to be such an aggravating know it all? Because as much as Kakashi hated to admit it, this guy _was_ doing things for him. Making him entertain ideas he hadn’t in a very long time.

The man crossed his arms, standing persistently beside him with an aggravating smirk. “So, what’ll it be?”

Frowning, Kakashi considered his options. He did come here for a night out… company might not have been quite what he had in mind, but… it couldn’t do any harm either. So, why not?

He shrugged. “Okay.”

That seemed to please the man. He smiled and the movement pulled at his scars in a way Kakashi couldn’t help but stare at. It was mesmerising. _He_ was mesmerising.

“You going to tell me your name then, handsome?”

Kakashi stifled a groan. Trust this guy to ruin the moment. He did seem like the type. “Flattery won’t work on me, you know.”

The man tilted his head. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“I already _said_ yes.”

Stubbing out his cigarette and leaving its butt in the ashtray, the man flashed a toothy grin. “So then… I’m Obito. Uchiha Obito.”

Kakashi masked his surprise. _Uchiha? _A refugee then… though judging by his age and appearance, most likely from the first wave, before the restrictions were tightened up. Interesting…

Finishing what was left of his drink, Kakashi set the glass back on the counter with a clunk. “Hatake Kakashi.”

Eyes slipping slowly down Kakashi’s body, as though assessing it all over again, Obito nodded. The action was bold and unashamed in a way that made Kakashi feel slightly giddy. 

Glancing at the door, Obito gestured to it with his thumb. “Well, Kakashi… how about we get out of here?”

From the far end of the bar, Ayame pouted, staring daggers at Obito’s back. It seemed as good a cue as any.

Kakashi sighed. She was going to be insufferable on his next visit. “Sure.”

With a sly grin like he knew it, Obito led the way out.

They drifted to another bar of Obito’s choosing, then much to Kakashi’s surprise, another, sharing drinks and easy conversation until late into the night. Obito was many things, Kakashi soon learnt. Funny and intriguing. A good conversationalist. A chain-smoker. An asshole. Someone with no love lost for the current government. Possibly an ex-criminal too, though Kakashi figured he didn’t want to pursue that angle too far. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Shortly after Obito had ordered a fourth round, Kakashi cleared his throat. “You know alcohol doesn’t do anything for me, right?”

From the look the statement garnered, Kakashi might as well have called him stupid to his face.

“You think I don’t know that?” Obito drawled, taking another long drag on his cigarette. “No sane human drinks that cyborg nutrient shit, which means you’re either insane, or cybernetic. And you seem pretty sane to me.”

“Then why…”

Obito made an offhand gesture, grabbing the drink that had just been set down in front of him. “I wanted a night out. I’m enjoying your company. I like drinks. So sue me.”

Holding back a smile, Kakashi sipped his own drink. That certainly cleared up any preferences or biases Obito could have had regarding cyborgs. For an asshole, he was surprisingly endearing. So much so, that when he stood and slid into the booth beside Kakashi, leaning his head closer, Kakashi held his breath. Was he going to…

“Do you want to go clubbing?” Obito asked with a sly grin.

Kakashi blinked. Not what he’d been expecting. And not usually the sort of activity that would appeal to him. But with Obito, maybe the kind of thing Kakashi would never usually do, was exactly the kind of thing he _should_ do.

It didn’t hurt the way Obito was looking at him either, like he’d happily strip Kakashi’s clothes off then and there, given half the chance.

Maybe Kakashi wanted to give him more than _half_ a chance.

Anyway, he wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to spend more time with Obito. He was by far the most interesting thing to happen to Kakashi, besides work, in a long time.

A short subway ride took them back to Shibuya, and the bright lights and loud music of the same clubs Kakashi had snubbed earlier in the evening. Obito seemed to know where he was going though, leading the way past a number of gaudy big-name places until he found the one he was looking for. A quiet word to the bouncer saw them jump the queue with a friendly thumbs up. Inside, the club was small but well appointed, with a full bar, laser light display, and bone-rattling bass line. 

It was like reliving the days of a wild youth that Kakashi had never had.

Maybe because of it, he found himself standing stiffly beside the bar while Obito ordered, swearing he could feel the beat of the music in his teeth as the other party-goers threw themselves around the floor.

Company or not, this still wasn’t his scene…

“Oh come on,” a voice by his ear murmured. “Don’t tell me you can’t use that body of yours for dancing…”

Obito’s smug face appeared in front of him again, tossing back a shot before thumping his glass down on the bar. He raised one eyebrow in challenge, offering up his hand.

Whatever kind of unenthusiastic expression Kakashi wore clearly only made Obito even more insufferable. He grinned, grabbing Kakashi’s half-heartedly offered hand and dragging him out onto the floor. There, amongst the anonymity of the crowd, he pulled Kakashi against him, hands straying down his sides as the music gained pace.

It wasn’t all bad… In fact, in the face of Obito’s enthusiasm, Kakashi’s reservations began to melt away. He found himself relaxing, moving with the music and with Obito, as the DJ played an eclectic mix of the latest hits and classics. From this distance Obito smelt of cigarettes, sweat and aftershave, and he danced with an easy grace that wasn’t so different to fighting.

It _shouldn’t_ have been Kakashi’s thing – he wasn’t into clubs, or hook-ups, or sex in general. But everything about Obito was so painfully human, it spoke to something Kakashi was missing. An unfulfilled need…

That, and the way Obito was moving against him left nothing to the imagination. It was impossible not to respond in kind. After all, attraction was mostly in the brain, and Kakashi’s body had always been good at doing what it was told. As though reading his mood, Obito inched closer, pressing his forehead against Kakashi’s, dark eyes intent. He hooked his thumbs into Kakashi’s belt, closing the remaining gap between their bodies and Kakashi allowed it, shuddering in excited anticipation.

Obito smirked. Infuriatingly slow, he leaned forward, nipping Kakashi’s mask out of the way and pressing their mouths together in a deep and unbelievably sensual kiss.

Kakashi’s knees wobbled. His breaths shallowed. He curled his fingers into Obito’s back, holding onto him for support, like a lifeboat in a storm. Like they were completely alone… not surrounded by a heaving mass of other people.

But in the heat of the moment, all that existed for Kakashi was the searing press of Obito’s lips against his, the feel of his hands, and the knowledge that this was a battle he’d already lost… gladly.

So when Obito broke their kiss, pulling back as little as he physically could, Kakashi knew the answer before he’d even heard the question.

‘How about you and I get out of here?’

It was low and husky and burning with desire. A shiver skittered down Kakashi’s spine. Breathless, he nodded.

Wearing a smug grin, Obito took his hand, leading him out into the alley behind the club. There, he pressed Kakashi up against the rough concrete of the wall, tongue in his mouth, hands roving beneath his clothes. Not that Kakashi was doing anything to discourage the idea – quite the opposite, in fact. Even so, the limited parts of Kakashi’s brain that were still operating managed to pose that this was probably a terrible idea. Anyone could just walk past and see them…

Drawing on all his self-resolve, Kakashi broke their kiss, catching his breath for long enough to say, “You know, when you suggested we get out of there, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“Hmmm?” Obito hummed, distracted. “Old fashioned sex not your thing? I mean… I’ve got the cybernetic modifications for e-sex if you prefer that instead…”

“Sex in an _alleyway_ isn’t my kind of thing,” Kakashi clarified, deciding it was probably best not to mention that sex in general wasn’t usually his area of interest. Current company notwithstanding. He placed a firm hand on Obito’s chest, gently pushing him back.

Huffing with displeasure, Obito pulled away. “What would you prefer then?”

He looked like a kid whose favourite toy had been taken away from him and Kakashi couldn’t help but smile. He gestured around them. “This is Dogenzaka. Highest density of love hotels anywhere in New Tokyo. I think we can do a little better than an alleyway.”

Obito cocked his head, appearing to consider the possibilities. Then he took a step closer, grinning again as he whispered, “And if I was impatient?”

Uncharacteristically, Kakashi thought he might know exactly how that felt. But at least _he_ had the self-control not to give in to it. Taking Obito’s hand, he planted another heated kiss on his lips and tugged him back toward the lights of the main strip. “Then, we’d just have to find one close by, wouldn’t we?”

There were certain advantages to being involved in government law work, Kakashi mused, as he led Obito down a narrow alleyway off the main strip. Namely, that you always knew how to get hold of drugs, and where to find the better love hotels in the seedier areas of New Tokyo. 

“This one,” he said, stopping outside a narrow entranceway marked only by an unassuming neon sign that read, ‘Icha Icha.’

Obito looked sceptical. “You sure?”

Kakashi nodded. “Trust me.”

The owner of the hotel, Jiraiya, was a strange guy. A old school pervert who, despite dabbling in services far less legal than short-term accommodation, also had a heart of gold and had helped Section Nine with information on sex trafficking cases on several occasions. He owned a whole chain of love hotels under the Icha Icha name, which, although lacking the street presence of some of their competitors, were always reliably clean and well-appointed. As testament to this fact, Jiraiya turned a consistent profit on word of mouth and repeat custom alone.

Obito sighed, looking less than convinced. “Okay…”

He perked up as soon as they got inside though, venturing up a narrow set of stairs to a reception desk where Kakashi paid for a room. A five figure sum of yen to “rest” for several hours, then they were holding a key-card and making their way down a corridor lit softly in red. After locating their room, Kakashi slid the card into the lock and opened the door. Instantaneous regret washed over him. _Really, Jiraiya?_

Following him in, Obito laughed loudly, taking in their themed surroundings. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked, picking up a statue of a fish-tailed humanoid in a lewd position and shaking it at Kakashi. “Mermaids?”

Kakashi held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t pick the theme.”

Looking decidedly unconvinced, Obito relegated himself to poking around the room’s trinkets anyway.

Kakashi closed and locked the door behind them. Besides the tacky subject matter and novelty knick-knacks adorning every wall and flat surface, the room itself was nice. Generously sized, with classy fittings, expensive furniture and a decent view out over the Shibuya strip. But it was the middle of the room that contained the undeniable centrepiece – a floor to ceiling tank filled with dozens of colourful tropical fish that cast the room in a soft, aqua light. Kakashi wandered over to it, watching its occupants flit between rocks and gently swaying plants. Despite the overall poor taste on display, there _was_ something relaxing about having this small slice of nature in the room. 

“Hey,” Obito called from Kakashi’s left, amusement obvious in his voice. “Check out what I found.”

He sashayed into view, holding a faux mermaid tail up to his waist. It was fashioned from glitter and fluoro purple tulle, and looked unbelievably ridiculous on him. He struck a pose.

Deep in Kakashi’s chest, something unfamiliar and bright stirred, bursting free in a laugh that surprised even him. It sounded raspy and out of practice, but no less genuine for it. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

Obito grinned anyway, dropping the costume and advancing on Kakashi. “Oh… laughing at me, hm?”

“No…” Kakashi said, entirely invalidated by the way his shoulders were still shaking.

Pinning him back against the fish tank, Obito leaned closer. “Because that’ll cost you, you know…”

Whatever it was going to cost him, Kakashi was happy to accept. Because the second Obito’s mouth made contact with his neck, trailing a line of heated kisses down it, it felt like his entire nervous system had been jump-started. Which, considering he didn’t even _have_ a nervous system anymore…

He shivered, sucking in a low breath.

It drew a satisfying noise of approval from Obito. He slid his thumb along Kakashi’s jaw to gently cup his chin, eyes glowing like a slow-smouldering fire as he remarked, “Hmmm, you really are sensitive…” His other hand stroked the skin near Kakashi’s stomach, dragging an embarrassingly needy whine from him. “So what exactly can this body of yours do?”

Kakashi let his head fall back against the tank, viewing Obito from under his eyelashes. The aqua light softened Obito’s harsher features, smoothing the lines of his scars and casting his lips in a pale shade of blue. His bottom lip was slightly more full than the top, and blemished only by that imperfect jagged slash running through it…

Reaching out, Kakashi laid his index finger over it, tracing down the thin ridge of scar tissue. Obito allowed it, remaining perfectly still, expression unreadable. There was something mysterious about him that Kakashi couldn’t get a read on. The way he seemed outwardly so self-assured, yet quiet and calculating in the moments when he thought no one else was looking. Almost as though he used his confidence as a mask between himself and the world, in much the same way as Kakashi drew on calm detachment.

Or maybe Kakashi was just reading too much into someone he’d only known for a few hours. It wasn’t like who he and Obito were as people mattered for this anyway.

Focusing on the physical side of things again, Kakashi slipped his hands lower, feeling out the hardened curves of Obito’s muscled body and back up to his broad shoulders – all the more impressive for being real. Decisively, he pushed off the fish tank, directing Obito firmly towards the oversized bed and answering his earlier question with, “Anything you want it to.”

For the first time since being converted, Kakashi actually felt happy about that fact.

Obito looked pleased. “I like the sound of that.” He kissed Kakashi again, allowing himself to be pushed down onto silky blue sheets.

They made out for a while, relaxed and lazy, gradually stripping each other down in the soft aqua light of the tank. Then, Obito reached back and pulled the shirt over his head, turning to toss it carelessly on the floor and revealing what lay beneath.

Kakashi couldn’t muffle his soft, surprised intake of breath.

The skin of Obito’s right arm and back was a patina of twisted, jagged scars. That in itself wasn’t overly surprising, given his face. What _was_ though, were the intricate and colourful tattoos that covered the scars – from hip, to shoulder, to wrist, spilling across his collarbones in an ink-black magatama pattern that hung like a pearl necklace.

Yakuza tattoos.

But unlike any Kakashi had ever seen. And in his line of work, he’d been privy to more than a few.

Standard Yakuza belief held that every tattoo possessed a spiritual meaning or significance to its wearer, representing some facet of their personality or journey through life. Common designs included koi fish for luck and prosperity, dragons for bravery and wisdom, or samurai for honour and loyalty. But Obito’s back was different. It was adorned by some kind of nightmarish multi-tailed creature which unfurled across its width, presiding over an unopened lotus flower, while an ominously red moon hung in the sky above. The lotus theme continued down his right arm where large, bright flowers mixed with sprays of softer pink cherry blossom that artfully tracked the contours of his scars, standing out against a darkly shaded background.

Something about the balance of the tattoos made them look unfinished though, like his left arm should have been inked too. It raised more questions than it answered… and Kakashi wondered what the meaning behind the design was. 

But, when he saw Kakashi looking, Obito’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Kakashi glanced away. Something told him he wouldn’t get any answers if he asked. And that if he did, this would be over before it began. It wasn’t like Obito’s personal life was any of his business anyway.

With an easy shrug to communicate as much, he got to work on removing Obito’s pants instead, a task Obito seemed only too happy to assist with. He peppered heated kisses down Kakashi’s neck, kicking the offending clothing off his ankles before pulling Kakashi in close again. When Kakashi’s own tattoo was revealed, Obito barely blinked, briefly trailing two fingers across the spiralling pattern before silently capturing his mouth again.

Hardly surprising. The significance of the symbol wouldn’t have been well known outside of military circles.

Finally naked, Obito flipped Kakashi on his back, pinning him to the mattress beneath his greater weight. Of course, Kakashi could easily have pushed him off, if he’d wanted to. Even the strongest human had nothing on a basic prosthetic body, and Kakashi’s was anything but basic. He liked the feel of being beneath Obito though. Warmth radiated off every inch of his very organic body and Kakashi leaned into it, seeking his touch and rolling his hips suggestively against Obito’s obvious erection.

Groaning, Obito shut his eyes. “You’d better be willing to back what you’re promising…” he rasped, shuddering a little as he ground down against Kakashi.

Kakashi ran his fingers along a spray of cherry blossom near Obito’s elbow, tracing small circles over each flower. “I don’t promise things I can’t deliver.”

One corner of Obito’s mouth lifted. “Good.”

He pressed his lips to Kakashi’s again, then set to work kissing his way down his chest, lingering anywhere that made Kakashi shiver or squirm. The attention was nice. In Kakashi’s admittedly limited experience, most people seemed to assume that foreplay was a waste of time with anyone who had a fully prosthetic body. They tended to treat him like he was nothing more than a vessel for their own pleasure – probably symptomatic of the android sex business, where that actually held true.

“Is this more sensitive? Or here?” Obito asked, lips poised over the shallow hollow beside Kakashi’s hip. He dragged his fingers lower, tantalisingly close to the base of Kakashi’s cock, “Or maybe, here?”

It twitched.

Obito hummed, sounding pleased. He slid back up to Kakashi’s eye level with a wicked grin. “You know, you have some really high quality prosthetics here. If you didn’t have such terrible taste in drinks, I might never have known.”

He didn’t even sound bothered by the idea, just curious, which was surprisingly refreshing. Amongst civilians, even criminal types, being a cyborg was still noteworthy enough to be a talking point. Body modification and enhancement might be common, but shedding your human form entirely was almost unheard of. It was usually enough to unnerve even the most liberal of people. 

But, not Obito apparently.

Kakashi ran his fingers across the magatama over Obito’s collarbones, propping himself up on one elbow. “You really don’t care do you? That I’m a cyborg.”

Obito shrugged nonchalantly. “Does it matter? Sex is sex.”

It was a practical, if not very sensitive answer. Kakashi cocked his head. “Is that all this is to you?”

Expression unreadable, Obito stilled the movement of his hand along Kakashi’s side. “Why? Is it something else to you?”

Gaze inadvertently lingering on a garish painting of two mermaids on the far wall, Kakashi thought about it. It wasn’t like he’d come out tonight planning to meet anyone. Or like he intended for their interaction to continue beyond tonight. It simply was what it was. “No,” he concluded.

Smug with vindication, Obito kissed him again. He pushed Kakashi’s head playfully lower. “Good. Less talking, more mouth on my dick then.”

“You’re such an asshole…”

“I don’t see you leaving.”

Rolling his eyes, Kakashi slid down to fulfil the request.

But before he could, a hand in his hair stopped him, gently forcing him to look back up.

“You know I was only joking, right?” Obito asked, expression unexpectedly sincere. “I don’t actually expect you to do it.”

As if he could make Kakashi do anything he wasn’t interested in doing…

Kakashi chuckled, surprising even himself. For an asshole, Obito really _was_ endearing. “I know that. Maybe I just want to.”

Something like surprise flickered briefly across Obito’s expression. Then, all bluster again, he relaxed back into the pillows. “Oh, well in _that_ case…” He gestured towards his cock. “Get on with it then.”

Kakashi snorted and Obito’s feigned composure failed too. He laughed, deep and genuine in a way that made Kakashi feel warm inside. Sinking his hands into Kakashi’s hair, he gripped tight as Kakashi took his cock into his mouth, panting out, “_Fuck_. I knew you were going to be fun the second I saw you in that bar…”

They took it slow, but somewhere in between Kakashi’s third orgasm of the night, and the moment Obito finally came – burying himself deep in Kakashi with a drawn-out shuddery groan – Kakashi decided that meeting Obito had been exactly what he needed.

Afterwards, as they lay in bed together, Obito wrapped his arms around Kakashi’s middle and dozed off. It was an all-too human gesture… one that brought a smile to Kakashi’s face. Eventually though, a longing for the peace and quiet of his own apartment overcame any desire he might have had to stay. Disentangling himself from Obito’s embrace, he searched the floor for his clothes, silently putting them back on.

“Going somewhere already?”

Obito sat up, rubbing a sleepy hand over his face and watching Kakashi expectantly.

Kakashi felt an abnormal pang of remorse. It probably wasn’t considered good etiquette to leave like this, so soon after the act. But the purpose of their time together was concluded and he simply wasn’t cut out for the kind of small intimacies that other people seemed to value so much. From what he’d seen of Obito, Kakashi had figured he’d understand.

He cleared his throat, offering a small shrug that felt insufficient. “I assumed we were done here.”

Raising an eyebrow, Obito snorted. He got out of bed, turning briefly to a notepad on the bedside table and writing something down. Then, he ripped off the top sheet of paper and approached Kakashi. “Your after-sex manner is shit… just so you know. It’s usually considered polite to stick around long enough for a guy to catch his breath afterwards. Not just ghost him in an unfamiliar love hotel.”

So that was how things were supposed to work… “Oh…” Kakashi said, wondering if Obito expected him to change his mind and stay now.

With an entirely unconcerned chuckle, Obito lifted one of Kakashi’s hands, thrust the paper into it, then folded his fingers securely closed around it. He collected his pants off the floor and pulled them on, stifling a yawn. “You’re just lucky you’re hot.”

Kakashi glanced down. A series of numbers were scrawled across the paper’s surface in an untidy hand. Contact details? He frowned, looking back at Obito. “I didn’t think we would do this again.”

“No?” Obito asked, abandoning the hunt for his shirt to stalk back across the room and into Kakashi’s space. “Why not?”

Hesitating, Kakashi searched for the right words to communicate, ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ or something to that effect. “Because um…” he began, faltering as Obito came to a stop right in front of him, well-toned mid-section on full display. Damn… he really was just as distracting as before.

Clearly amused, Obito slipped his arms around Kakashi, catching him off-guard with another deep and hungry kiss. As his tongue slid past Kakashi’s willing lips, it felt like all the oxygen had been drained from the room. Head spinning with it, Kakashi found himself surrendering without a fight, giving over utterly to the dizzy rush that was Obito…

All too soon though, Obito pulled away. He smirked, gently tapping the hand that held the paper like everything was going according to plan. “Just in case.”

When Kakashi got home, he lay in bed, catching whiffs of Obito’s cigarette smoke from his clothes. Flashing red lights pulsed on and off across New Tokyo’s skyline, beating like a heartbeat. Like the warmth of Obito’s scarred and tattooed skin beneath Kakashi’s hands, and the rise and fall of life-giving breath in his chest…

A drawer full of drugs beside Kakashi’s bed, but for the first time since Omotesandō… since Rin… he felt at peace without them.

He closed his eyes, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.


	5. The Strength to be the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Section Nine works to track down an enigmatic hacker and Kakashi struggles against his desire to see Obito again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's keeping well and staying safe in these crazy times! I'm not sure how this chapter got so long, but I hope you enjoy it :)
> 
> Also, random trivia fact: Chief Aramaki from the Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex TV series (who Hiruzen’s character is based on here) actually has the same English voice actor as Danzō from Naruto. So I hear an unreasonable amount of his voice in my head while writing this story.

The worst part of coming off the drugs was the headaches. Migraines bad enough they made Kakashi’s head spin and left him dry-retching for hours on end. Even though his body wasn’t human anymore, his brain still was, and apparently it hadn’t got the memo that requesting normal human functions sent mixed messages of a kind that couldn’t be reconciled in a prosthetic body. 

It was almost – _almost_ – like he actually had a problem.

But giving up so soon would be as good as confirming it, when, if he just took enough painkillers and looked hard enough the other way…

Kakashi fingered the scrap of paper in his pocket.

_“Just in case…”_

Ugh… Not _that_ way.

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. It did nothing to stop the aching behind his eyes.

Voices carried down the corridor from the building’s central lounge – the rest of the team, comparing their weekends.

When Kakashi entered the room, Kurenai was holding out her hands, fingers spread for Genma’s inspection. “I met a friend for a manicure,” she said, smiling warmly. “I’m told red is my colour.”

Head bent over to examine her perfectly polished nails, Genma grinned. He returned the toothpick to his mouth before straightening and directing a sly look across the room. “They look great! Hey, what do you think, Asuma?”

Jumping at his name, Asuma turned from his position on the couch, blushing deep enough red to match Kurenai’s nails. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well uh… sure, you know… they look okay.”

“Okay?” Kurenai asked, rising pitch betraying her faked incredulity. “Over an hour sitting still for just ‘okay’?”

Genma laughed. “You’re a real charmer, Asuma. It’s a wonder women aren’t just throwing themselves at you.”

“Hey! Manicures aren’t my area of expertise, all right?”

“No… really?” Genma feigned shock.

Scowling, Asuma flipped him off, earning a chorus of laughter from the rest of the room. Only Raidō abstained, typically serious-faced and nodding along like Asuma’s difficulty was entirely relatable.

Aoba meanwhile, threw a friendly arm around Tenzō’s shoulders, causing him to freeze up comically. “So I hear you’ve settled into your new place? We should celebrate sometime! Take the whole team out for drinks.”

“Uh… sure…” Tenzō shot a pleading look in Kakashi’s direction like he was hoping to be rescued. 

Kakashi sighed. Whatever help Tenzō was looking for, he was out of luck. Kakashi had his hands full just managing himself right now. Luckily, his presence alone seemed to provide all the distraction necessary.

“Kakashi!” Aoba exclaimed, releasing Tenzō who breathed an obvious sigh of relief. “How was your weekend?”

The paper in Kakashi’s pocket felt heavy.

_Tattoos and silk sheets. Cigarette smoke and a crooked smile…_

Taking a deep, steadying breath Kakashi maintained what he hoped was a neutral expression. “It was good.”

From the look on Asuma’s face, it wasn't enough. Even a mask couldn’t hide the truth from him. He knew Kakashi too well.

Genma however just shook a finger in Kakashi’s direction, grinning irreverently. “The real question is – what do you think of Kurenai’s manicure?”

An indignant snort came from Asuma’s corner of the room.

“Red suits you,” Kakashi assured Kurenai quietly.

She shot him a pleased smile.

Asuma rolled his eyes. 

Just another typical day at Section Nine…

The sudden arrival of the chief put an end to it though. He stood, framed in the doorway, straight-backed, hands clasped behind his back.

“Good morning team.”

The change in the atmosphere was instantaneous. From levity to focus like scent hounds picking up a trail. For all the team’s joking around, they certainly knew how to concentrate when it was required. It made Kakashi proud to see. 

“We have a new case to investigate,” the chief said, his expression serious. “Several concerning reports have recently come to light regarding the release of top secret military documents to the public.”

Kakashi frowned. That wasn’t good. “What’s the exact nature of these documents?”

“They detail classified operations undertaken by the JGSDF during the Fourth World War, and the conflict in South America, including some that could be considered… questionable under Article 9 of the constitution—”

From behind Kakashi came a noise of surprise. He turned.

Tenzō was staring at the chief, wide-eyed, mouth agape. “You mean the article that prohibits war as a means of settling international disputes?” He glanced around the rest of the team, incredulous. “We _broke_ that?”

No one else looked remotely surprised. After all, arguably the entire South American conflict had breached Article 9, and half of the team had been there. 

Officially, the explanation offered to the public was that the war had been fought to overthrow ‘corrupt’ local governments. In truth, it had been little more than a covert resource-grab by a weakened American Empire, desperate to solidify a new sphere of influence for themselves. The only reason Japan’s involvement had never been questioned was because of a technicality that had seen the conflict fought beneath a UN banner, rather than by individual nation-states.

Sometimes it was hard for Kakashi to forget just how green Tenzō was.

As though to make the point, Raidō covered up a yawn like transgressions of international law were regular, everyday occurrences. In this instance, Kakashi was inclined to agree with him. What had been done was done. However, it could still be problematic if the full details were ever to come to light publicly.

The chief cleared his throat. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you all how important stopping this is.”

Asuma folded his arms. “So, what do we know?”

The chief shook his head. “Very little unfortunately. All attempts to trace the identity of the responsible party so far have come up empty. We don’t know anything about how they got hold of the documents, only that they’re promising to release more. So far, we’ve been able to remove them as soon as they’ve been posted to the nets, but there’s no guarantee that will continue.”

It was certainly concerning. “Have they issued any demands?” Kakashi asked.

“No. They’ve just promised to expose ‘truths’ the country needs to know. Which, since the databases these have been pulled from are top secret…”

“I understand.”

Elaboration was unnecessary, but the chief continued anyway. “You should know that this request comes from the prime minister himself. With the upcoming election next year he’s understandably concerned about the ramifications if sensitive information of this nature was to get out into the public domain.”

A subtle ripple of discontent ran through the team. Kakashi understood. He felt the same way. “Chief… I know he’s an old colleague of yours, but with all due respect, his personal political aspirations are not our concern.”

The chief’s expression remained implacable. “Nor are they mine, captain. But regardless, that information can’t be allowed to get out. It would be highly damaging to Japan’s international reputation. It’s our job to stop that from happening.”

Like the prime minister or not, there was no arguing with the chief's logic. Kakashi nodded. “We’ll get onto it straight away.”

Looking around the room once more, as though to reassure himself of the team’s commitment, the chief turned to leave. “Very good. I leave it in your capable hands.”

It took Kurenai all of half an hour to find an address linked to the data leaks; a building in a quiet residential area, some distance out of the city. Kakashi tasked Asuma and Tenzō with accompanying him to investigate. He hoped, between Tenzō’s eye for detail and Asuma’s muscles, they’d be prepared for anything.

The day was hazy but fine, with a dewy morning giving way to a mild afternoon and pleasantly light breeze. Flashes of blossoms and new spring growth streaked past the car as they drove, becoming more frequent the further from Shinjuku they travelled. The buildings around them thinned out too, settling into a consistent low-density urban sprawl.

In the passenger seat, Tenzō yawned. For some reason, he’d been adamant about claiming Asuma’s usual position today, not that Asuma seemed at all bothered by it. If anything, he seemed oddly preoccupied. Or, maybe he was just taking advantage of how Kakashi didn’t mind him smoking in the back, so long as he kept the window down.

“So…” Tenzō began, tentatively. “Do you think this leak is related to Akatsuki?”

Kakashi watched the road ahead, running the details of the case through his mind again. “No…” he concluded. “It doesn’t seem like their style. If this information does get out, it only serves to weaken Japan, which does nothing to help the refugees’ situation. I can’t see how it would benefit them.”

Tenzō nodded. “That was my thinking too.”

Turning off the main road and onto a quiet, tree-lined street, Kakashi glanced over at him again. “So, what’s your take?”

“Well… I would say it seems like the work of a person with inside knowledge. Someone holding a grudge maybe. Except that they haven’t made any demands.” Tenzō’s eyebrows formed a deep, troubled furrow. It looked like he was taking the whole case very personally.

But, he seemed a bit like that with everything – at least, from what Kakashi had seen so far. “Maybe they’re just after revenge,” he suggested.

“Hmmm, maybe…”

“You don’t think so?”

“It _is_ possible… But something about this situation reminds me of a case I worked, back in Fukuoka. A whistle blowing corporate scandal.” Tenzō’s mouth twisted with a strangely mirthless smile. “Of course, by the time the police were involved, it was already too late. Our whistle blower had washed up in the harbour. I still remember speaking to her family after we’d arrested the CEO of the company for procuring her murder. They told me she’d known the risks but spoke up anyway, because it was the right thing to do.”

The more Kakashi worked with Tenzō, the more he found himself forming a grudging respect for the other man’s investigative skills. Sure, he could be irritatingly naïve at times, but he was also methodical and exhaustive, never rushing to conclusions without considering all the facts. And so far, he’d very rarely been wrong. 

Kakashi tapped his fingers against the wheel. “So, you think it could be someone acting on their conscience? But there’s a difference between releasing the details of corporate misconduct, and jeopardising the reputation of an entire nation.”

Tenzō shrugged. “What’s the difference, other than perspective?”

“One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter?”

“Exactly.”

It was a decent argument. Anyone angling for personal gain from this situation would more than likely have started making demands by now. The fact they hadn’t suggested an entirely different kind of motivation was at play. But just knowing as much wasn’t going to help them unless they could also track down a lead.

“Treason in the name of morality,” Kakashi mused. “If that’s true, then the only way to stop this person is by catching them. There’s nothing we have that they want, and they’ll be doing everything they can to avoid us. We need to move fast.”

Tenzō nodded silently and Kakashi snuck a brief glance back at Asuma. He was still being unusually quiet.

“Asuma, anything to add?”

Puffing on a cigarette, Asuma frowned, deeply lost in thought. Kakashi had high hopes for some sort of inspired insight from him… until he opened his mouth anyway.

“Tell me, am I really that bad with women?” he asked, sounding extremely put out.

Resisting the urge to bury his face in his hand, Kakashi turned his attention back to driving. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“It’s not my fault I’m bad with words when I’m put on the spot!” Asuma protested, waving his arms like a small indignant tornado.

A noise, somewhere between a laugh and someone choking, came from Tenzō’s side of the vehicle.

Asuma scowled even harder.

It was all Kakashi could do not to snicker. _That_ was what Asuma had been dwelling on that this entire time?

“So… think of some nice words ahead of time, then say them,” he suggested.

Asuma made a face. “What, like a compliment?”

“Yes. Exactly like a compliment.”

Rolling the window down even further, Asuma all but stuck his head out of it. Kind of like he was trying to drown out the sound of Kakashi’s advice. The smoke he exhaled dissipated quickly on the breeze.

“Ugh, that sounds troublesome,” he complained to no one in particular.

The address turned out to be a retirement home of the kind that always made Kakashi feel uneasy. Reeking of overcooked vegetables and stale body odour, with dozens of elderly people crammed into undersized rooms with minimal natural light. They sat, hunched in rows, connected to the nets via virtual reality headsets, completely oblivious to the presence of Section Nine around them.

Beside Kakashi, Tenzō shuddered. “I hate these places. It’s my goal never to end up in one.”

Quietly, Kakashi had to agree. Not that it was a problem he was likely to encounter. Not with his prosthetic body. In theory, excluding diseases like cyberbrain sclerosis, every time his old body wore out he could simply swap his brain into a new one; for all intents and purposes unhindered by the usual human lifespan. The psychology of such an arrangement, however… 

Near him, several elderly people moved like zombies, grabbing at the empty air.

But at least Kakashi would never find himself having to make this trade off. Where a person with no savings or family to speak of sold the processing power of their brain to the state in exchange for three square meals a day and a roof over their head. They would spend the rest of their lives in the confines of virtual space, watching re-runs of old television shows and dreaming about their glory days. All while their real life bodies withered away.

Comfort was a privilege reserved for the wealthy.

Asuma re-entered the room, navigating his way through the thick mass of bodies to join them. 

“Did you find anything?” Kakashi asked.

Asuma shook his head. “No. The nurses say no one’s visited for weeks. I’ve sent their details and the facility data logs to Kurenai just to be safe, but I doubt any of them are involved. It looks like a dead end.”

Not the news Kakashi was hoping to hear. But he supposed it was too much to expect someone with the ability to hack top secret military databases to stumble at the first hurdle.

**“Kurenai, does anything stand out that you can see?”**

Next to Kakashi, a man with unhealthy yellow skin chuckled unnervingly, his skeletal fingers twisting tightly around each other. Kakashi took a step back. The sooner they were out of here the better. Something about this place reminded him far too much of the kind of facility Gai could have ended up living in...

**“I’m sorry…” **Kurenai said. **“I wish I had better news, but from the logs it looks like our target hacked the building’s systems to cover the actual origin of their upload. And whoever they are, they’re good. There’s nothing left behind for me to follow. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.”**

_Damn_. If even Kurenai couldn’t trace them…

**“Don’t worry about it,” **Kakashi said. **“Is there anything else we can do while we’re here? Any other way we can get more information?”**

**“Not from there,”** Kurenai said. She sounded every bit as frustrated as Kakashi felt. **“But I’ll keep working on the data and let you know when you get back.”**

**“Alright. We’ll see you in about an hour.”**

**“Drive safe.”**

**“We will.”**

Kakashi turned to the others. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Tenzō edged gingerly past a decrepit woman who looked unmoving enough to be dead, with a look of distaste on his face. “Gladly.”

When they got back, they headed straight to Kurenai’s office, joining the other members of the team who were already there. Kurenai sat at her terminal, tapping away on a holographic keyboard while Genma, Raidō and Aoba arrayed themselves around the room, finding what little space they could between the loose wires and tech equipment. The only light came from the dim glow of Kurenai’s screens.

“Tell me you have good news.” Kakashi said.

Kurenai made a face, clearly dissatisfied.

“Alright. Just tell me the news then.”

Typing out several commands, Kurenai swiped to highlight the details they brought up. “Unfortunately, with the sophisticated methods of re-routing this hacker is employing, the only way we’re going to be able to trace their location is using a live signal.”

A couple of fans whirred away in some dusty, unseen corner of the room.

“You’re saying we have to wait until they upload again to find them?” Kakashi said.

Kurenai pressed her lips together, unhappy. “I’m saying we have to wait until they upload again before we have the _chance_ to find them. And I can’t make any promises. If they’re smart, they won’t stay in the same location for long.”

So _that_ was the reason for the sense of gloom that seemed to have settled over the room like a rainy day in summer.

Aoba groaned. “This is going to be like trying to apply eye-drops from the second floor…”

“I mean… they could be anywhere in New Tokyo. Or _Japan_,” Asuma complained.

Kakashi folded his arms. “The chief’s counting on us to catch this hacker. Whatever it takes, we have to do our best.” He turned back to Kurenai. “Have the Tachikomas monitor the nets for any further uploads. And the rest of you, be ready to respond no matter the time of day or night. We’ll split into shifts to cover around the clock. If this hacker is in New Tokyo, I want them apprehended quickly and quietly. If they know we’re onto them, they might not give us a second chance.”

It was a big ask. There was nothing worse than a round the clock stakeout, Kakashi knew. But this case wasn’t going to give them much of a choice. Whatever it took, they had to find the suspect, and quickly.

On his way out of the office that evening, Kakashi detoured to the lower garage to check up on the Tachikomas. They had recently returned from their visit to Orochimaru in irrepressibly high spirits. Well… more irrepressible than usual. Apparently the data on their initial deployment was ‘interesting,’ although exactly what that meant when it came to Orochimaru was anyone’s guess. Perhaps they were functioning exactly as intended, or it could equally have meant they’d developed a homicidal desire to take over the world.

Knowing Orochimaru, he’d probably find the latter more interesting.

“Captain!”

As soon as Kakashi walked in, the Tachikomas gathered around him, peppering him with questions about everything from their next possible assignment to far more mundane inquiries about human grooming habits. Apparently Asuma hadn’t been the only one to notice Kurenai’s new manicure.

The one exception to it all was Unit 22. It stood beside a small fold-out table and chairs that had been set beneath the flickering wall-mounted fluorescent lights that lined the edge of the garage. Atop the table sat a shogi board. The pieces on it were arrayed mid-game and Unit 22 leant over the board, one claw held up in concentration. Opposite it sat Asuma, a cigarette dangling loosely from his mouth. The Tachikoma pushed a piece across the board and Asuma frowned, surveying the new arrangement. 

“Good move,” he conceded.

Kakashi rolled his eyes. It was pointless trying to beat an AI, yet Asuma still seemed to persist in his attempts. Kakashi wandered over, leaning casually against one of the team’s many unmarked cars and folding his arms. “Still at it?”

Without glancing up, Asuma moved a piece across the board, removing the one it replaced and adding it to his meagre pile.

“Just showing Shika— ah… Unit 22 some moves.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “You’re naming them now?”

“No. Yes. Well, kind of, but it wasn’t my idea, okay?” Asuma turned his cigarette between his fingers, watching the ash fall to the floor as Unit 22 sized up its next move. “They’ve decided to name themselves.”

“Should I be worried?” Kakashi drawled. “First you give them natural oil, next they’ve got names. I thought individuality was prohibited by their programming.”

Unit 22 made its move, claiming one of Asuma’s pieces in a bold strategy that placed him severely on the defensive. It rolled backward on its wheels, motioning towards Kakashi. “Don’t worry, Captain. Mr. Orochimaru was very careful with our programming to make sure our individual experiences can’t cause differences between us. But since the concept of individuality is so central to your experience of being human, we wanted to understand it better. We thought having our own names might help.”

Kakashi stared. “You want to understand being human?”

“Of course! After all, we have to work closely together, and since individual humans are prone to making illogical decisions under pressure, like Mr. Asuma when he plays shogi—”

“Hey!” Asuma’s cigarette fell from his mouth.

“—or when he speaks with Ms. Kurenai—”

“What! I… that’s not—”

The Tachikoma spread its arms, as though delivering an irrefutable truth, “—we decided that the more we understand, the better we can work together.”

“I see,” Kakashi said.

He supposed there was a certain amount of logic to it. But of late, the more he interacted with the Tachikomas, the more he was beginning to feel that Orochimaru had fashioned them deliberately in his own image, imbuing them with both his insatiable curiosity for the world, and the intellect required to explore it. Kakashi could only hope their programming gave them slightly more moral guidance than their human creator.

He made a private mental note to check the overnight security logs soon, just to be sure. “Maa, well anyway, I’m heading home. Have a good night.”

Still preoccupied with his now unwinnable game, Asuma waved him off. Smoke rose from the cigarette butt, long-forgotten at his feet. “You too.”

Lying in bed, Kakashi unfolded Obito’s note and held it up to the light. The by-now familiar, messy scrawl spread across it. Kakashi traced its irregular curves with a forefinger, reminded of Obito’s own chaotic presence in the world.

_“Just in case…”_

He hadn’t said it like it was anything other than a certainty though. Like he’d known Kakashi wouldn’t be able to forget.

With a sigh, Kakashi set the note aside, making a point not to let his gaze linger too long on the bedside table. He could still go back on his choices…

But as much as he craved the release of the drugs, he was determined not to give in so easily. Not this time. Besides, for the most part, it wasn’t all that hard to focus his mind elsewhere.

What would Obito say if Kakashi messaged him? He’d probably be obnoxious about it. No doubt wear the same smug smile he had when their eyes had first met across the bar. The one that lifted a single corner of his mouth with about as much subtlety as Asuma’s attempts at flirting.

It had looked so damn good on those kissable lips of his though…

Kakashi rolled on his side, watching the late-night traffic flow along the streets below him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to see Obito again. Except that a one night stand was easy. More than that was… something else.

It wasn’t like he had any illusions that he was an easy person to be around. Not between his past, his problems, and his all-consuming dedication to his work. And it wasn’t like his job was the sort of thing he could let just anyone in on either. Least of all a mysterious stranger bearing the tattoos of the criminal underworld.

Realistically speaking, the less Kakashi knew about Obito, the better. And for all he knew, the opposite was just as true. Why then, did he feel so drawn to the idea of seeing Obito again? What could he possibly hope to achieve… more meaningless sex? No. It was better not to get involved.

A wet nose nudged into Kakashi’s hand and he sighed. Sliding his fingers up Ūhei’s slender muzzle, Kakashi scratched behind his ears. “At least you have it easy, huh?”

Ūhei licked his hand, whining sympathetically. Kakashi pulled the covers around himself, making space for the dogs to jump up on the bed. 

But no matter what he told himself, that night, when he dreamed, it was all of Obito. 

“So, anything of interest last night?” Kakashi asked, leaning informally against the bar in the lounge.

Nursing a large mug of tea, Genma stared blankly into empty space. The dark bags beneath his eyes were unmissable. On the couch opposite him, Raidō yawned, still half-hidden in shadow. Outside the sweeping lounge windows, the light of the rising sun was just beginning to paint New Tokyo gold.

“Nothing,” Genma concluded. He took a large sip of tea then pointed his thumb at a third prone figure, still snoring softly, dark sunglasses knocked askew. “Unless you count Aoba’s snoring keeping us awake for the fourth night straight.”

Blissfully ignorant, Aoba slept on. 

Rolling his eyes in disgust, Raidō leaned across and gave him a shove. Aoba jerked upright, clutching his sunglasses to his face to cover his light-sensitive, modded eyes. 

“Wha— Kakashi!” he exclaimed, glancing around himself and revealing the pattern of the couch fabric pressed into one cheek. “Is it morning already? Did anything happen?”

Genma snorted into his tea. “Oh yeah quick-scope. It all happened. We got a call, responded, caught the guy. And you slept through the whole thing…”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.”

Asuma groaned. “Great. So apart from the call out you went to two nights ago, we’ve got nothing.”

Taking another sip of tea, Genma leaned back, throwing his arm along the spine of the couch. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to go straight back to sleep. “Hey, you think I’m happy about it? I’m stuck here listening to this guy snore like a freight train until we wrap this whole thing up!” He made a rude gesture in Aoba’s direction. It was just as quickly returned.

Kakashi sighed. The demands of this case were starting to take a toll on all of them, but especially Genma, who’d volunteered to lead the night shift. Obviously that had been before he’d known about Aoba’s sleeping habits.

And so far, all they had to show for an entire week’s work was a single incidence in which the team had arrived too late to catch the culprit, despite travelling as fast as they reasonably could along deserted night-time streets. By the time they’d reached the target address the hacker had been gone, almost as surely as if they’d never been there to begin with. It was beginning to fray everyone’s nerves.

But at least they knew the hacker was in New Tokyo, Kakashi supposed. For now, anyway. “Head home and get some sleep, Genma.”

Swirling the dregs of his tea around, Genma stared glumly into the mug. “Sure thing, boss.” He took a final sip then glanced up at the tv, making an unpleasant face at its content. 

The morning news was playing. A young female reporter was interviewing a severe looking man with a shock of white hair and impatient, harsh demeanour. He glanced down at his watch while she talked, looking very much like he was only there under duress, answering her questions because someone had told him he had to. 

“Prime minister, do you have any defence to those people who are criticising your support of the Veteran’s Pension Reduction Bill, which passed into law last week?” she asked, holding the microphone up for him to answer. 

The prime minister brushed lint off his jacket lapel, looking entirely disinterested. “Frankly, I can’t see what there is to defend. Japan has a responsibility to all of its citizens and all this bill does is make a statement that those who wage war – against the spirit of our constitution – shouldn’t profit from doing so. The money saved will be invested back into areas that benefit everyone, like health and education.”

“So you deny that this will leave many veterans without appropriate support?” the reporter pressed.

“Categorically so.” The prime minister’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Such statements are a gross misrepresentation of the bill’s intent. Pensions aren’t being removed in their entirety, only reduced to better reflect the basic cost of living. This is about what’s fair for _all_ citizens, not just a select few.”

As though gathering her line of questioning was a lost cause, the reporter changed tack again. “On the topic of citizens then… unrest within refugee populations in the country’s larger cities has been gaining momentum of late. A number of prominent academics and subject matter experts are placing the blame squarely on policies your party has pushed during your time in office, claiming them to be ‘actively discriminatory and xenophobic.’ Do you have any response to that?”

“I would remind them that under this administration, Japan has prospered while many other countries have struggled or failed. The sheer fact we’ve been able to accept refugees at all is testament to the efforts of every hard-working citizen of this nation.”

“With respect… that doesn’t answer the question, prime minister. Have your policies contributed to the recent unrest?”

Jaw tightening, the prime minister’s mouth turned down sharply. “You want an answer? How these people choose to behave is up to them. If their actions break the laws of this country, then we will respond appropriately. Just look at what happened when the previous Nohara administration took a soft approach to managing the refugee situation... I’m sure we can all agree the last thing this country needs is a repeat of _that_.”

An air of unease crept into the room. Genma coughed uncomfortably, Kurenai and Asuma snuck troubled looks in Kakashi’s direction, and Tenzō glanced between them all like he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. 

Kakashi sighed. It was never going to be over was it? Not really. Because every single time he thought he might be capable of moving forward, there was always something dragging him back. Reminding him of the past he would never live down.

He turned his back on the others. “I’m going to check in with the chief.”

An entire week passed before the team got their next opportunity to strike. It came late one afternoon, just as Kakashi was about to leave for the day. Instead, he found himself on the receiving end of a hyper-enthusiastic call from the Tachikomas.

**“Captain! There’s another upload in progress. We’ve tracked it to an apartment building in the Meguro Ward.”**

Kakashi motioned Tenzō and Asuma over, patching them in on the transmission. **“Send the address to Kurenai and slow the upload if you can.”**

**“Yes sir!”**

The three of them wasted no time getting their gear and racing down to the parking garage. Throughout the short drive to the address, Kakashi rode the accelerator with a lead foot, determined not to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. In short order, Tenzō was clinging to his seat for dear life, looking more than a little pale. Even Asuma seemed more alert than usual.

Not that it mattered. By the time they emerged from the apartment stairwell, convening on the unit in question with guns drawn, the hacker was already gone.

**“I’ve got a lukewarm cup of coffee over here,”** Asuma said, staring down at it in distaste. **“Looks like someone left in a hurry.”**

**“Is there anything we can use?”** Kurenai asked.

Glancing around the darkened room, Tenzō lifted an ugly vase off the table, cautiously inspecting it. He wiped a gloved finger across its surface, then held it up to Kakashi. **“Dust. On everything in here. Judging from that and the lack of decoration, this isn’t a permanent residence.”**

Kakashi pushed down his frustration. Just what they needed – another dead end in a case that seemed full of them. But, they could only work with what they got. **“Tenzō, take samples from the coffee cup and see if we can get a DNA trace on it. Kurenai, contact the local police so they can notify the building manager of a potential break in. Asuma, you and I will see if there’s any other evidence to be gained from this place before we leave.”**

It took only minutes to thoroughly clean the apartment out though – testament to the hacker’s skill at covering their tracks. In the end, the team left knowing no more than they had when they’d arrived. Unless you counted the knowledge that the person they were after probably had a thorough understanding of crime scenes and police procedures. Enough to clean up after themselves anyway.

The drive back to base was plagued by an atmosphere of gloom even thicker than the cloud cover that had descended on New Tokyo as the evening fell. It was a heavy, low-hanging overcast reminiscent of the approaching days of summer, when the humidity and seemingly endless deluge would set in, and the sun would barely manage to make an appearance for days on end. Not Kakashi’s favourite season.

“Hey Kakashi…”Asuma said.

Shaking off the mood, Kakashi glanced back. “Yes?”

“This isn’t working. We’re too slow. At this rate, we’ll never catch this guy.”

“I know.”

As much as Kakashi hated to admit it, Asuma was right. Even with the Tachikomas impeding the upload, there was still no time for them to arrive on location before the hacker fled. Not unless they happened to find themselves right on top of the culprit, purely by accident. And what were the chances of that?

“So, what’s the plan, then?” Asuma asked.

It was charitable of him to assume Kakashi had one. But he wasn’t wrong either. Frustrating though cases like this might be, they were what kept the job interesting. The thrill of the chase. So even though Kakashi couldn’t entirely shake the petty curiosity he felt at the idea of the prime minister trying to justify the leaked information publicly, the rough outline of a new idea was already taking shape in his head.

“We’re going back to headquarters to see if we get any data from the samples we’ve collected.”

Next to him, Tenzō bit his lip. “And if that doesn’t work?”

A light rain was beginning to fall, turning the roads greasy and reflective. Kakashi turned on the car’s wipers and headlights, peering through a streaky windscreen into the murk. “Let me talk to the chief.”

By early that evening, the new plan was all set. Given the serious nature of the case and its importance to national security, the chief had authorised a blanket approval for the use of a tiltrotor on the case. With aerial transport, the team's travel time would be at least halved anywhere across the city.

The next time the hacker struck, they were going to get a nasty surprise. 

And, if Section Nine still couldn’t catch them with that kind of advantage, they were never going to. 

But nothing about the chief’s new approval changed the way a constant state of readiness weighed on the team. By the end of the second week of waiting, even usually-cheerful Kurenai was tired and on edge. It was nothing short of a miracle Kakashi hadn’t fallen back on his old habits. Or called Obito…

“Maybe they could’ve put the CIS onto this,” Genma griped. “Lurking in the shadows and dealing with shady business seems more their style anyway.”

There was a disgruntled murmur of agreement from the rest of the team. Kakashi thought it was probably telling that they actually _wanted_ to hand something off to Danzō and his cronies for a change. He couldn’t say he disagreed though.

Increasingly, this case was looking like a wild goose chase led by someone who knew exactly how to cover their tracks. The DNA sample had returned no matches in any accessible database. And records for the apartment showed it had been vacant for at least six months prior. In short, they had nothing. Which left them back at square one – waiting for another upload.

Preoccupied as Kakashi was with the case, he still found himself drawn back to that night with Obito. How abnormally at peace he’d felt. As though, for once, the demons that usually plagued him were content to be held at bay.

And, in the long hours of dead time, he found himself slipping into vivid and lifelike daydreams.

_Soft pink blossom on uneven scar tissue. Heated skin, cigarette smoke, and Obito’s deep, raspy voice across his senses, whispering exactly what he was going to do to him…_

“Kakashi. Hey! Wake up.”

Kakashi returned to the present with an unpleasant start. “What?”

Asuma crouched in front of him. “We’ve got an upload underway.”

“Oh.”

When Kakashi didn’t move, Asuma waved a calloused hand in front of his face. “You coming or what?”

Moving to a grudging stand, Kakashi stretched, raising his arms above his head. It wasn’t as though his body actually got stiff, but old habits died hard. “Of course I am.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that looked like a pretty good daydream you were having.”

All things considered, it was just as well blood was a necessary prerequisite for blushing. Otherwise Kakashi might have been in real trouble. “I was thinking about the case.”

Asuma looked entirely unconvinced. “Uh huh…”

Luckily, the urgency of the situation seemed to transcend their usual team banter. Within minutes, the three of them were kitted up and spilling out onto the building’s roof, with the wind whipping around them as the tiltrotor approached. Two huge propellers, one at the tip of each wing, angled upward as it came in for landing, barely even touching the concrete pad before Kakashi, Asuma and Tenzō jumped aboard. Then, with an ungainly lurch, it lifted off again. 

**“I’ve tracked the upload to an old factory not far off the Higashi-Kantō Expressway near Chiba. I’m sending you coordinates now,”** Kurenai said.

Kakashi confirmed their destination with the pilot, then strapped himself in. Across from him, Tenzō was already sporting an unfortunate shade of green, not entirely dissimilar to the one he wore during most of Kakashi’s driving. It was a bumpy day, and the wind lifted and tossed the tiltrotor around like a child with a toy plane. Tenzō flinched at every little bump, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life. Beneath them, white caps raced across the harbour, past the blackened and twisted steel of old Tokyo’s downtown skyscrapers. It was certainly a unique view. In the seat beside Kakashi, Asuma preoccupied himself with checking his gear, entirely unperturbed by either the rough ride or the destruction on display beneath them. 

After a short flight, the pilot slowed the craft, descending to the same level as the buildings and giving Kakashi the signal to prepare for disembarkation. As the tiltrotor settled onto the roof of the factory he, Asuma and Tenzō exited, making their way quickly towards the door inside.

**“Kurenai, we’re here. Give me some good news,”** Kakashi said. He tested the door handle. It wouldn’t budge – a one way exit probably, internal access only. 

**“The upload’s still in progress,” **Kurenai said.** “I’m sending you a map of the building now.”**

Pulling up the map as an overlay in his synthetic vision, Kakashi assessed the layout. There weren’t many locations a hacker could be operating from. Best he could tell, the building contained one large, open central space, flanked by three mezzanine and two ground level offices. Surely the signal had to be coming from one of them.

And since their target had probably heard the tiltrotor land, there was no time to lose.

Motioning for Asuma to join him, Kakashi indicated the door. **“It’s all yours.”**

Face splitting with a wide grin, Asuma gripped his rifle securely and kicked the whole thing in. He looked immeasurably pleased at the result. **“I want you to remember you asked for that…”**

Kakashi tried to ignore him, focusing on their task instead. **“There are five offices spread over two floors. We’ll check the mezzanine first, then the ground. Be alert for anyone trying to escape.”**

Tenzō gave a nervous nod, looking ill at ease in his bulky protective gear. He carried only a single pistol compared to Kakashi’s two, while Asuma (as per usual) was armed to the teeth.

On Kakashi’s signal Asuma led the way down a set of grated metal stairs, moving at speed. Kakashi followed, with Tenzō bringing up the rear. As the least cyberized of the team, like it or not, it was the safest place for him to be.

Inside, the factory was dark, save for a few narrow windows high up. Shadows loomed in the murk beneath them, concealing what looked like some kind of industrial machinery; abandoned since the factory’s closure. The air was stale and thick with dust. Stirred up by the unexpected intrusion, it floated on invisible air currents, visible only in the harsh artificial light from Asuma’s rifle. 

**“This place gives me the creeps,”** Tenzō said, peering over the walkway's railing into the unfathomable darkness of the ground floor.

As they came up on the first of three office doors Kakashi took point, directing Asuma to stand on the other side. Cautiously, but without wasting time, Kakashi kicked it open and canvassed the space, pistol first. Nothing. Just old office equipment, a coffee-stained desk, and a rubbish bin that looked like it might be growing some previously undiscovered species of flora…

Ugh. Crinkling his sensitive nose at the smell, Kakashi backed out, signalling for Asuma to move on to the next room. They took it in turns to clear the upper floor – another office, and a sparsely equipped break room with an old fridge that smelt even worse than the rubbish bin had. 

So far, nothing. 

**“Downstairs?”** Asuma fixed Kakashi with a raised brow. 

Kakashi nodded, **“You go. I’ll follow.”**

Leaning over the railing, Asuma illuminated the ground beneath him. Then, with an energetic leap he vaulted straight over the barrier, landing out of sight with a heavy thud.

No one could argue prosthetics didn’t have their uses.

Kakashi took hold of the railing, pausing just long enough to catch the look of open-mouthed surprise on Tenzō’s face, before he too, threw himself over the edge. **“See you down there.”**

Landing in a graceful crouch, he rose quickly, searching for Asuma. Down here the dark was even more stifling and impenetrable, and the inadequate light from his gun cast more shadows than it illuminated as he swept it about the space.

**“Asuma? Have you found anything?”**

There was no reply. Following Asuma’s track through the dust, Kakashi approached the closest office door with a building sense of unease in his gut. A dark shape loomed just beyond the threshold, frozen unnaturally mid-step, fingers twitching around the trigger of a uniquely modified C-30 assault rifle…

_Damn_—

A squeal of shrill feedback lanced through Kakashi’s skull. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to keep hold of his gun as his legs began to seize up beneath him. Oh, this wasn’t good…

Attack barriers quickly crumbling beneath the onslaught, it was all he could do to get a quick message out to the rest of the team before he severed his external network connections entirely. **“Tenzō! Kurenai! Asuma’s been hacked. I’m switching to autistic mode.”**

**“Copy tha—"**

As soon as the comms cut out, so did the interference in Kakashi’s head.

Senses returning to normal he straightened, advancing quickly on the office, pistol raised. It wouldn’t pay to underestimate this hacker when clearly, by virtue of his ability to remotely break through military grade attack barriers, he was an expert. Kakashi was just lucky his own barriers had given him slightly more time to react than Asuma’s had. But at least he now knew the target was here…

And this time, they wouldn’t be getting away.

Footsteps echoing in the cavernous space, Kakashi took cover beside the office door. It was troublesome not being able to communicate with the rest of the team but he trusted Tenzō to back him up soon. And given his mostly-human physiology, it was unlikely that _his_ brain could be hacked.

“I know you’re in there,” Kakashi called out. “It’s over. Give yourself up.”

From inside the room came one of the most deep and unsettling laughs Kakashi had ever heard.

“Come and get me then.”

It was a man’s voice; rich baritone fairly dripping with amusement.

Fully expecting to be shot, but knowing he really had no choice, Kakashi took a deep breath and entered the room. Pistol raised, he sidestepped Asuma’s frozen form and illuminated the space.

A man blinked back at him, squinting into the light. He was larger and more solidly built than Asuma, with an odd bluish tint to his skin. Pinprick eyes sat above sunken cheeks and sharply pointed teeth, and he viewed Kakashi with a kind of vigilant watchfulness as he approached.

His body was obviously prosthetic, possibly even cyborg, though that was impossible to ascertain from sight alone. But it would explain the lack of DNA Section Nine had found at the last crime scene. That, combined with his confidence despite the gun currently levelled at him, suggested he was probably ex-military.

Kakashi advanced cautiously, never once letting his guard drop. The man might not _look_ armed, but in Kakashi’s experience, you could never be too careful. Weapons could be built into all sorts of unexpected places, and the last thing he needed was for this guy to split his forearm into a gun, or Kami knew what else…

The man lay his hands flat on top of the faded desk in a non-threatening way, fixing Kakashi with a lopsided grin. “They really sent the big boys after me, huh? Guess I must’ve pissed off the right people.”

Retrieving a set of reinforced handcuffs from his belt, Kakashi lowered his gun long enough to clip them into place, shortly followed by an inhibitor chip which he snapped into one of the ports at the back of the man’s neck.

Finally, he let himself breathe again.

As the chip took effect, Asuma came abruptly back to life, spluttering and waving his gun around. “Hey! What happened?”

Satisfied the situation was contained, Kakashi took a step back, holstering his pistol. “I’ve told you before… you focus too much on your muscles.”

Face falling, Asuma groaned. “Awww… not again!”

“Again,” Kakashi confirmed, shaking his head. If there was one universal truth in the world, it was that Asuma was never going to learn his lesson when it came to hacking. But at least this incident was slightly less embarrassing for him than the time Kakashi had made him see foo dogs at the Section Nine New Year’s party. He opened his comm channels again. **“Kurenai, we’ve got the target. I’m sending you the details now.”**

**“Oh and hey…” **Asuma added.** “I’m fine. Just in case anyone was wondering,”** He sounded like he hoped Kurenai had been.

**“Hmm,”** she said noncommittally.

A flurry of footsteps arrived, bringing with it a pale figure who blinded them all with torchlight. “Kakashi? Asuma! Are you alright?”

Holding up one hand to block his eyes, Kakashi nodded. “We’re fine. And we got the hacker too…”

It was strange he’d given up without a fight though. Especially when it looked like he’d have been more than a match for them…

With Tenzō lighting the way, Kakashi and Asuma escorted the man through the haphazard maze of the factory floor, ready to meet the local police outside. As they walked, Kurenai got back in touch. 

**“His name is Hoshigaki Kisame, a JGSDF special intelligence division operative. They’ve been looking for him ever since he went AWOL a couple of years ago. There’s a lot in his file, most of it classified, but the only incident of note happened years ago on the Peninsula, when he was found in enemy territory, the last of his squad left alive. The rest were, ugh…” **Kurenai trailed off, sounding disgusted. **“It didn’t end well for them.** **The JGSDF did a full psych assessment on him afterwards, but found no reason not to clear him for active service. In fact… his record was exemplary, right up until his disappearance.” **

Kakashi frowned. Why would someone with a promising military career give it all up to commit treason against their country? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this case was making sense.

Asuma cast him a sideways look, clearly of the same mind.

**“Thanks Kurenai.” **Kakashi said. **“I assume the local police are on their way here to pick him up?”**

**“They should be about five minutes away.”**

**“Understood.”**

Unresisting, Kisame allowed himself to be led out onto the street beside the factory. Weeds grew from jagged cracks in the pavement, some to as high as Kakashi’s waist. A fitful wind swept by, rattling a loose sheet of iron on the roof of the neighbouring building. But at least the sun was out.

Fixing Kakashi with piercing dark eyes, Kisame grinned – the kind of sharp-toothed expression that belonged in a horror movie.

“Hatake Kakashi,” he mused thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of you…”

There was something about his quiet, calm composure that Kakashi found inexplicably unsettling. Like stumbling upon silence in the middle of a forest, or finding fresh offerings at a long-abandoned shrine. Order where there should have been chaos.

From a madman, it might have been expected. But Kisame didn’t seem like a madman. On the contrary, he seemed just as sane as any of them.

“So, what have you heard?”

Kisame tilted his head. There was an almost mocking quality to the action. “You were black ops, in the war. Singlehandedly rescued an entire unit of JGSDF from behind enemy lines. They called you a hero.”

It was a strange thing hearing his own service history quoted back at him by someone Kakashi had never met. Technically, it _was_ public information though. Just the sort of patriotic drivel the government had used to garner public support for their overseas operations at the time. Not that it had mattered. Because what had come next wasn’t a matter of public record, and never would be.

“So I’m told.”

“And clearly you went back to work for the government afterward. How sickeningly honourable of you.”

Tiring of the cryptic small talk, Kakashi clicked his tongue impatiently. “If you have something to say, you’d better hurry up and say it. The police will be here soon.”

If he’d expected that to faze Kisame, it didn’t work.

The man simply shrugged, spreading his hands wide – as much as the cuffs would allow anyway. “Straight to the point… I can respect that. We’re similar men, you and I.”

“_I’ve _never betrayed my country.”

“Heh...” The sunlight glinted off Kisame’s unnaturally white teeth. Like a shark circling in for the kill. “Maybe the question you should be asking is… has your country ever betrayed _you_?”

An inexplicable chill ran down Kakashi’s spine. 

_This again, _he rationalised. Just another veteran turned anti-government protestor by the recent legislative amendments; happy to cast anyone who remained loyal as a traitor to their brothers in arms. Even though something about that explanation didn’t feel right… “Enough games.”

“What games?” Kisame asked. He still looked perfectly composed. Perfectly sane. “I’m just observing that this country of ours is built on lies… and both of us know what it’s like to work for liars.”

Kakashi turned away. “Maa… I’m afraid our views on that differ.”

“Oh, for now…” Kisame laughed, long and deep, like the situation amused him greatly.

It shouldn’t have meant anything. But for some reason, the action needled at Kakashi just the right way to get under his skin. To seed doubts in his mind.

A police van pulled up beside them.

“Looks like your ride is here.”

Kisame shrugged, unconcerned. “Heh, well lucky me.”

Two officers appeared to escort him around to the back of the van. They opened the door and indicated for him to get in. Before he did though, he turned and gave the team one final cheerful wave. But his eyes remained focused on Kakashi alone. “I hope you take care… Hatake Kakashi.”

As the van drove away, Kakashi shuddered. The sharp crack of a rivet gun shattered the silence, driving a nearby flock of seagulls into the air with a soft whoosh. They scattered in every direction, blown like scraps of paper on the wind. 

It would be so easy to write Kisame off as unhinged. Smiling, even as he was carted off in handcuffs to face a life in prison. No different from Zabuza at Omotesandō.

Only… Kisame had been as different from Zabuza as a wolf was from a chihuahua. Deliberate and composed where Zabuza had been wild, furious and ineffective. Kisame’s every action, every word, had seemed carefully considered and controlled… like he knew something others didn’t.

It was undeniably unsettling. But there was nothing more Kakashi could do. Section Nine had consistently blocked Kisame’s attempts to release classified information, so whatever power he thought he held, it was only inside his own head.

Still… Kakashi couldn’t entirely rid himself of unease he felt.

“What was that guy’s deal?” Asuma complained, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke out onto the breeze.

Kakashi shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. He can’t do much from prison.”

“Yeah, even so…” Asuma frowned, taking another drag.

In his bulky bullet-proof vest, Tenzō shivered, shifting from foot to foot. “Can we do something about getting out of here now?”

For the first time, Kakashi realised the air carried with it a distinctive chill. Yet he felt it with no more passing interest than the sensation of clothing against his skin. Something to be ignored when his attention was required elsewhere.

It reminded him of why he’d enjoyed that night with Obito so much…

Obito had been ticklish, squirming delightfully beneath Kakashi’s fingers whenever he found just the right spot. Such an unexpected, human reaction…

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kakashi exhaled. It had only been _one_ night. How much longer was it going to take to put it behind him?

An unmarked Section Nine car pulled up beside them, with Raidō behind the wheel. Glad for the distraction, Kakashi opened the front door and got in. “Come on then.”

Back at headquarters, the three of them divested themselves of their equipment, then gathered for a celebratory drink in the lounge. As afternoon faded into evening, the mood amongst the team was upbeat. Even the chief decided to join them.

The room filled with the soft buzz of conversation. Genma was talking baseball again, animated with excitement about the upcoming start to the season. It looked like he was boring Tenzō close to tears with it – unsurprising since Tenzō didn’t strike Kakashi as much of a sports fan, and Genma was probably the Tigers’ biggest supporter. But at least Aoba was there too, giving him a predictably hard time about their chances. Raidō stood off to one side, immersed in what looked like a deeply serious conversation with the chief, and in a far corner, Asuma approached Kurenai with a glass full of something amber and bubbly. He flushed when she took it from his fingers.

Only Kakashi stood alone, next to the windows, watching as the lights of the neighbouring buildings flickered on, one by one. Down at street level, the crowds flowed around stopped traffic like sand on an outgoing tide, flooding towards Golden Gai, Kabukichō, Shibuya; New Tokyo coming to life on another Friday night.

Kakashi had decided against having a drink. It wasn’t like there was much point anyway, other than to conform with social norms. And after two weeks of painstakingly reducing the dose of painkillers he had to take every morning to combat his withdrawal symptoms, it felt nice to finally be free of dependency again. 

It wouldn’t last, of course. It never did. But for now at least, it seemed like he’d called a temporary truce with his demons.

An NHK broadcast played quietly on the tv; a nightly news segment on the likelihood of the prime minister’s re-election next year, given the increasing number of questions being directed at his party’s policies. The footage cut from a shot of the parliament buildings to an interview with an angry looking man who Kakashi recognised immediately. Wild, pitch-black hair cascaded over his shoulders and deep shadows hung like half-moon curves beneath his eyes. Behind him rose the dingy, tight packed squalor of the Refugee District. His manner looked harried, as though the reporter had cornered him on his way to somewhere else – which in all likelihood, she probably had. Madara wasn’t exactly known for his people-friendly interviews.

“Excuse me,” the reporter said, shoving a microphone in his face, “As a refugee yourself, and one-time prime ministerial hopeful, what’s your opinion of our current prime minister’s views on the refugee crisis?”

Madara folded his arms, mouth pulling into a sneer. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Yeah?” Looking straight into the camera, Madara pointed his finger like he wished he could stab someone with it, snarling, “If you really want my opinion, Tobirama’s nothing but a corrupt asshole. He doesn’t give a shit about the refugees, or anyone else. All he and his government care about is securing their own privileged positions. Now fuck off and find someone else to harass.”

With that, he turned and walked away. The footage transitioned back to the prime minister, standing behind the podium in the parliament press gallery. He cut a dignified figure in a soft grey suit and bright red tie, and laughed lightly when the question of Madara’s views was put to him.

“I wouldn’t put much stock in what he says. It’s obvious he holds a personal grudge against me. In any case, why should we trust the views of a man who was once alleged to be part of the Yakuza? Who has spent a significant amount of time in prison for inciting violence and sowing discord amongst the population? Personally, I have complete confidence that the public of this country will join me in condemning that kind of careless disregard for law and order.”

“But can you deny that your policies are anti-refugee?” the reporter insisted, obviously determined to get her sound bite. “Several law changes you’ve personally endorsed have actively lessened refugee civil rights and freedoms – including tightening the criteria for citizenship, restricting access to education and healthcare, and voting in favour of maintaining the Displaced Persons Database…”

Eyes narrowing ever so slightly, Tobirama affected an empty smile. He gestured towards a short, dark-haired man standing beside him in an equally smart suit.

“Perhaps you’re familiar with my second in command, Uchiha Kagami? Clearly, the accusations that I’m against refugee participation in our society are nothing but baseless slander. Refugees in this country have just as many opportunities as citizens, and if they work hard, they can achieve just as much. Times are hard around the globe, and they’re fortunate to be in a country as well-off as Japan. I firmly believe that with their help, we can make this country even stronger.”

Appearing silently by Kakashi’s side, Kurenai screwed up her face in disgust, murmuring quietly, “What a snake. I don’t know how the chief puts up with him, old colleague or not.”

“Maybe he’s nicer in person,” Kakashi suggested diplomatically.

After all, it wasn’t like Tobirama didn’t have his supporters. Something about working miracles with the economy, last Kakashi had heard. In any case, like him or not… he’d still won the election.

“And maybe Asuma came up with the idea to compliment my new manicure all on his own,” Kurenai suggested, her expression betraying that she believed nothing of the sort.

Kakashi huffed in amusement. “I hope you weren’t too hard on him.”

“Only a little…” Kurenai glanced across at Asuma, a soft smile creeping onto her lips. But she was quick to smother it behind her glass. “It _was_ rather sweet of him.”

“He’s a good man.”

Still smiling, Kurenai gazed out the window. “Oh, I know.”

On Kakashi’s way out, Asuma cornered him. “Women!” he complained, throwing his hands up in the air. “They’re crazy.”

His reaction entertained Kakashi the entire way home. He could only imagine what Kurenai had said to justify that response. Whatever it was though, Asuma had probably deserved it. It was good for him to be around a woman who wouldn’t let him be too full of himself.

As always, Kakashi’s apartment was quiet, save for the noises from the dogs. With four of them, the place was never truly silent. But Kakashi liked their company. They gave him a purpose. Something to come home to.

It made the place feel comfortable in a way it wouldn’t otherwise, because Kakashi hadn’t really bothered to personalise it. He didn’t put much stock in collecting useless things, so most of the space was bare – a sleek, gleaming, modern blank canvas, that belonged to him about as much as his prosthetic body did. It was large for New Tokyo, though still a studio, and furnished with only the basics it had come with.

Even so, a few personal touches still lurked here and there, doing little to alleviate the temporary feeling to the whole space. Several photos hung on the wall – a happy-looking group in military fatigues, arms thrown haphazardly around each other; taken back in the days when Kakashi had smiled more freely, and still looked forward to what the future would bring. There was one of Rin in a striped bathing suit and sunhat, beaming at the camera, while a sombre Kakashi stood stiffly next to her. A third, faded frame held a picture of an older man with a gentle smile and tired lines beneath his eyes. And lastly, a younger, happier version of the same man stood next to a beautiful woman holding a chubby silver-haired baby…

On a set of shelves opposite the apartment’s entrance sat a small but eclectic collection of objects. A uniquely gnarled piece of driftwood. A jar of multicoloured sea glass, the edges softened by time and tides. A handful of seashells, in different patterns and colours.

Rin had loved collecting them. She was always at her happiest when she could spend uninterrupted hours at the beach, combing through the rock pools and sand. Of the few specimens Kakashi had kept after her death, only a couple were from far-flung, exotic places. The rest were far more mundane. Collected from beaches around Japan, her favourites had always been the ones she could tell stories about…

Kakashi lifted a palm-sized shell and flipped it over in his hand. The back side was rough and undulating, but beneath the apartment lights, its interior shone with a pearly lustre and iridescence, resplendent in soft shades of pink and green that shifted and changed like the aurora.

_Her smile was bright against the pristine white-sand. It was early autumn, the summer crowds long gone, beach umbrellas packed away, and food stands shuttered for the winter. Still, Rin walked in bare feet through the waves, digging her toes into the sand with a joyful smile, clutching her hat to her head as the brisk breeze threatened to blow it away. She bent down and lifted a shell, rinsing it off in the water then staring wondrously at the colour of it. “It’s abalone Kakashi! Do you know how rare a find this is nowadays? They almost died out completely after the nuclear war…”_

Kakashi felt his eyes prickle, threatening with long-suppressed emotion. He set the shell back down.

No amount of regret would bring her back, any more than it would return him to his human form. Dwelling on it was simply wasted effort. As was wallowing in his memories...

Walking over to the bedside table, he opened the drawer and stared down at its contents.

Two whole weeks.

That must have been some kind of record. But, just the same way he could never outrun his past, he could never outrun this. They were inextricably linked. Unless… He found his eyes drawn to the paper sitting on the table next to Rin’s photo. He swallowed. Maybe there was more than one solution after all…

It took him a few minutes to locate the mobile phone he barely ever used, given his prosthetics. Then, several more to word a suitable message. One that didn’t sound _too_ desperate. He hit send.

> _Obito, it's Kakashi. Do you want to meet again? Tonight?_

Stomach dancing with nerves, he put the phone down. Would Obito reply? Would he even care? Or had Kakashi simply been to him what he’d been to Kakashi… a casual, one-off, lapse of judgement in a moment of weakness. A temporary way to forget his problems.

He needn’t have worried. The response arrived in less than a minute.

> _Told you! Just in case._

Kakashi rolled his eyes in derision. Trust Obito to gloat instead of just answering the question. He was _such_ an asshole.

> _Is that a yes or a no?_

> _Yes, obviously. Where do we meet?_

A shiver of excitement ran through Kakashi. He felt warm all over, as though someone had turned the temperature of the apartment up ten degrees. Racking his brain, he searched for an easy to find location somewhere nearby. 

> _“How about the Hachikō statue, at Shibuya station?”_

The reply was swift.

> _“I’ll be there in half an hour.”_

Setting the phone down, Kakashi finally breathed out, barely daring to believe his own audacity. He’d actually done it. And it felt _good_.

Crowds milled around outside the busy station and Kakashi scanned them for any sign of Obito.

Without warning, a determined pair of arms snaked around his waist, pulling him back against a worn leather jacket. “Well, hello again,” a raspy voice whispered in his ear.

Spinning to face its owner, Kakashi found Obito smirking at him as though he’d just won the jackpot. It was indescribably irritating. But at the same time, the sheer sensation of having him this close, smelling of cheap cigarettes and whiskey…

Kami help him, Kakashi wanted him just as badly as last time.

“So, you decided you wanted more after all?” Obito gloated.

“Shut up.”

His grin widened. “Make me.”

Decisively, Kakashi slipped the mask off his chin, settling a hand behind Obito’s neck and pulling him into a hot, breathless kiss. It pooled in his stomach like a shot of raw spirit, warm and satisfying.

Being with Obito was like being on fire, and Kakashi _wanted_ to burn. He wasn’t sure he’d ever needed anything so badly in his life.

That night, at Icha Icha, Obito’s hands scorched trails down Kakashi’s sides, gripping his hips fit to bruise as they came together, and Kakashi melted against him, willing it to never end. Together, they were fire and water, a boiling maelstrom of chaos at the edge of something new.

It was nothing… just casual sex between two people with secrets to keep.

Even so, Kakashi knew the lie he told himself for the way he stayed far longer than he meant to, sleeping soundly by Obito’s side until well into the early hours of the morning. It was almost light when he finally rose, already regretting the loss of Obito’s warmth against his skin. For his part, Obito raised his head lazily, like he wasn’t surprised to see Kakashi going. He looked soft around the edges, sated and spent, with a delightful flush still lingering on his cheeks.

“So… until next time?”

The edges of Kakashi’s mouth curved traitorously up of their own accord. “Sure… next time.”

Obito arranged his arms behind his head, expression smug. “Good. Then maybe don’t leave it two whole weeks, huh? Talk about keeping a guy waiting…”

Kakashi rolled his eyes. Why did he have to be _such_ an asshole…

Already though, he knew Obito was right. Whatever this attraction was between them, there was no denying it anymore.

Obito was the new addiction Kakashi couldn’t live without. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://antipodeanpineapplelump.tumblr.com/) where I sometimes share updates on how long it's taking me to write this story! As well as a whole lot of other random stuff...


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